


Bolts and Broomsticks

by flyingonfeatherlesswings



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Witch Hunt, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-05-05 14:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14620959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingonfeatherlesswings/pseuds/flyingonfeatherlesswings
Summary: England, 1630. Anthony Stark, blacksmith and tinkerer, has been falsely accused of being a witch and is awaiting his fate in jail. There he meets Stephen Strange, beaten and bound, who also has been accused of witchcraft. Just...less falsely.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Goddammit  
> I wasn't gonna write another multi-chaptered historical fic but I made a post on Twitter about this and the people DEMANDED I write it, so here you go. 
> 
> History is shaky, but my knowledge of mechanical devices is REAL shaky so forgive me for that.

**Chapter One**

_“A witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest, Granny Weatherwax had once told her, because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her.”- Terry Pratchett_

“Well this is bullshit,” thought Anthony Stark as he was escorted to his jail cell. And he had started his day so well. He and his apprentice Peter had fired up the forge and he had steadily been working on jobs, hoping to finish up in the early afternoon so he could tinker with some of the gadgets he had been working on. Peter was busy rushing about, getting him the tools he needed and asking question after question, Tony having to regularly hold out an arm to make sure Peter didn’t get to close to the forge. He hadn’t been too sure about taking the boy in when he had come looking for work. He was so scrawny and blacksmithing was not for boys who looked like they could better serve a monastery somewhere as a scribe, not having to lift anything bigger than a large Bible. But the boy could read and write and had had an almost scholarly curiosity around the blacksmithing process.

He had been even more enthralled with Tony’s hobby of cobbling together bits of metal and creating odd little devices the likes of which no one had ever seen.

And it was because of these devices that he was being roughly tossed in a cell, dark and chilly with only damp straw to break his fall. He hissed as he sat up and blinked in the dark as the door to the cell slammed shut and was locked.

Anthony Stark, blacksmith and tinkerer, had been accused being a witch, which he wasn’t, but if he was, he would but a hex on Justus Hammer.

xxx

What an irony that name was, being derived from the same word from which English got “justice” and the tool most commonly connected to their shared profession. Someone, most likely Justus himself, out there was probably kicking back pints of ale in the pub, joking that “justice has hit Tony Stark like a hammer!” as if any sort of justice had been at play here at all.

Justus Hammer had always been jealous of Tony Stark, even in boyhood. Tony had been a clever child and could’ve gone to Oxford had his parents not been taken by the pox when he was a teen, forcing Tony to take up work as his uncle’s apprentice. Tony went on to inherit the forge and Justus inherited his family’s blacksmithing business also. The town in Suffolk they lived in was big enough to need two blacksmiths, and the Starks and the Hammers had always been cordial with each other, accepting that competition wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Nevertheless, Justus Hammer loathed that Tony Stark’s superiority still hung over his head after all these years. Hammer got enough customers to have a stable business, but the whole town knew who put out higher quality work. 

And Justus was almost starting to accept that he was going to have to live his life just being jealous and scorning the sight of Tony Stark, until one day he overheard a rumor of sightings of a man seen flying through the air late at night. Of course, the man telling the story outside the forge to his gathered friends was a known drunkard, and that’s why he had been out at that hour, but he had been adamant about what he had seen.

“He was soaring through the air! And then a line shot from his hand! And he reeled onto the roof of the church! He ran across the roof and then shot out the line again and it pulled him onto another roof!” claimed the old man.

“You’re daft, you are! Are you sure it wasn’t no owl? Striking to get a pigeon?”

“A man-sized owl? No, I know what I’ve seen. And if you don’t believe me then so be it.”

Hammer had listened with skeptical interest and had mostly forgot about the story after the group moved off, until a customer had been mentioned the mysterious flying man while Justus was hammering some horseshoes. The customer said this time it had been a group of clerks who had seen the man and he had sprung from a rooftop into a crop of trees. They were all also probably drunk, but their stories had been compared and they swore they all saw the same thing, as fantastical as it sounded.

The sleepy little town in Suffolk didn’t boast many curiosities, so Hammer’s attention had been captured almost immediately by this mystery. What interested him the most was that it wasn’t as _sensational_ as it could have been. There were no leathery black wings on the figure’s back, whoever it was didn’t have glowing red eyes and it didn’t let out any noise by the sound of the accounts. Just faint thuds as it landed on it’s target. Anyone making up these stories would’ve embellished them at least a little bit.

Justus Hammer had found himself thinking about the mysterious man often after the second account. He caught himself mentioning it to his wife at the dinner table and she just rolled her eyes saying that it was all fanciful nonsense.  Justus figured she was right, and let the topic drop and return to other town gossip.

But one night he had been drifting off to sleep when a loud bump had wrung through his bedroom, dust and bits of debris falling from the ceiling.

Hammer hadn’t moved as fast as he did since he had been a boy, not even awakening his wife as he fumbled to get out of bed. He found himself in his nightshirt on the dirt road in front of his home. He looked around wildly, scanning the rooftops until he had heard a rustle that made him swing toward he copse of trees behind his home. There he spotted a figure of a man standing up in a tree, struggling to untangle something caught in branches.

“Sir! Pray tell what is your business at this late hour?” yelled Hammer at the figure.

The man froze and brought his eyes up to meet Hammer’s in shock. He obviously had not been planning on seeing anyone on his nighttime excursion.

Had it been a little later or a littler early, the moon wouldn’t have been at the right height. Had it been a little cloudy, there wouldn’t have been enough light. Had the man been standing on a different branch or further back into the thicket, he would’ve been too obscured. But as it was, Justus Hammer got a perfect look at the man’s face, the bottom half of which was wrapped in a scarf. But it didn’t matter, because Hammer saw his eyes. His wide, shocked eyes. And Justus knew those eyes. He hated those eyes, their soft brown tones often trained on Justus was disdain and pity.

They were the eyes of Tony Stark.

Justus stood stock still and didn’t even move after the figure finally untangled himself and jumped down to the ground, running off into the night.

Justus had retreated into his home, his head reeling with the new information. _Tony Stark was the mysterious figure_ and he should’ve known. In their childhood he had always been coming into the small one room grammar school showing off toys he had made from bits of leftover metal scraps from his family’s forge. Small, crudely fashioned carts that managed to be propelled by themselves, tops that spun for up to ten minutes on their own, small frog like devices that hopped seven or eight times after turning a crank. The other boys would stand around in fascination and gape at the sight of these inventions. Justus never understood the hype.

The was nothing nefarious about these trinkets and Justus knew this. Clocks were possessions of the rich and were mostly found on the sides of church towers but even the most common folk knew of their existence. Justus remembered sitting rapt at the feet of a merchant, stopping at the forge to get an axel on his cart repaired. He had told stories of the astronomical clock in the Old Town Square of Prague, it’s multi-dialed face showing off the positions of the sun and the moon. There was no magic that went into this invention. 

But a device that would allow a man to leap up into the air onto rooftops? People may have a harder time believing that. Justus knew Tony Stark and he knew that this was just another of his various gadgets that he had created. He knew that. But not everyone did.

So, Justus waited. When he came back to bed that night and his wife had blearily asked him what that commotion was all about, he told her he must have eaten something that had gone off and he had been awoken by a sudden stomachache, she should just go back to sleep. She rolled off and her snoring quickly recommenced, but Justus’ sleep did not return easily.  

Justus knew that Tony was being risky, going out into public to use this apparatus. He must have known that he had been spotted a few times. He just must not care. Justus scowled at his arrogance. He would mess up, he was fly too close to the sun, his wax wings would melt. Justus meant to be the sun when that moment happened. And oh, how he would enjoy seeing Tony Stark plummet in the sea.

Justus kept what he had seen to himself and kept his ears open. He did not hear about any more sightings until a few weeks later, Stark obviously having been spooked when he was spotted. But since no one came beating down his door he started up again. This time he had stuck to the edge of town, far away from Hammer’s forge, but still a young mother up late nursing her baby had spied him flying through the trees as she sat by her bedroom window. This was a respectable young lady, the wife of a local vicar, not some drunk, and suddenly the figure was the talk of the town. People started to spin tales about what the figure could be.

He could be some beast, leaping through the air at night looking for victims. He could be a spirit, some lost soul searching for rest. But Justus knew what outcome they would come to eventually. And a word started to spread through the town like a disease:

Witch.

Witches take flight, they do things that cannot be explained. And where there are witches, there is death and despair. So, when a young daughter of an affluent family, previously only healthy and hearty, fell ill with a cough and died within a fortnight, panic started to bubble up. This could’ve been the work of the witch. Rumors spread that the figure was seen standing on the rooftop of the family’s home the night before the girl had started coughing. The local church was full to bursting the next Sunday with people praying their families would be spared.

And that was when Justus had gone to the constable.

xxx

And this brings us back to Tony Stark, miserably rubbing the arm that had taken the brunt of his fall. He had been having such a nice day. Then the constables had shown up and escorted him from his forge to the jailhouse where he was interrogated for hours. He was asked what he had been doing at night, if there was anyone who could vouch for him. Alas, there was only Peter and they would probably say that he had put the young man under a spell to make him say what he wanted.

Tony knew even if he hadn’t been spotted trying out his invention, he was a good candidate for a witch hunt victim. He wasn’t a woman, especially not an older crone who lived on the outskirts of town who was particularly good at healing rashes, but he still was unmarried, kept to himself, and was too smart for his own good. He had made himself an outsider, and he had made himself a target of Justus Hammer’s jealousy. And now he was paying the price.

He knew what happened next. He knew how this story ended most of the time. Sometimes people could slither out of the justice system. Women pled their bellies and just hoped they got lost in the shuffle. Sometimes you could hope that they would prolong the investigation long enough that the panic around your arrest died down and you were no longer a threat. That the community no longer needed to see a person hanged to feel at ease.

But Tony knew that those situations were not the norm. What would happen is that he would continue to be interrogated. And the interrogation would turn to keeping him from sleeping, depriving him of food and water. Eventually, if his will was great enough, they might turn to physical torture. Then Tony would say whatever they wanted him to say.

Tony did not plan on letting it get that far though.

He was interrupted from his thoughts about his options by a low moan over in the corner of the cell. Tony sprung back before he realized a lump that he had taken for a mound of straw was actually a living, breathing human being.

Tony walked over to the man and knelt down, “Hello? Are you okay?”

When he didn’t receive an answer, he shook the man slightly. The man turned his face toward Tony, the fellow captive’s mouth covered with a gag. Tony quickly tugged it off.

The man let out a sigh of relief though Tony didn’t understand what there was to be relieved about, the man’s face looked like a mess after all. His lip was split, and his left eye was almost swollen shut. Tony could tell that the man’s face was already gaunt and angular, and a cut ran down one long cheekbone. Tony thought about how this was future that awaited him and chill ran down his back.

“Thank you,” said the man hoarsely in a deep, grating voice, “I don’t suppose you could get me some water? I would but…” It was then that Tony noticed that the man’s arms were shackled behind his back.

Tony got up, retrieving a cup of water from the bucket by the door, and returned to the man, helping him sit up and holding the cup to his lips. The man drank greedily, water flowing down his long neck.

“Thank you again,” gasped the man, finally having drunk his fill.

“I don’t know why you keep thanking me, there’s not much good I can do in this situation,” said Tony.

“Well, you could release the shackles around my hands and arms, then I would basically be in your debt.”

“I think I could actually,” said Tony. He began to search along the floor through the straw, finding a sturdy piece.

The man’s eyes quirked up, “Oh are you some kind of witch then?”

“That’s what they think.”

“Well? Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you a witch?”

Tony scoffed at the man, “You can’t be serious, witches aren’t real. They are just unfortunate people, in the wrong circumstances, who get the blame put on them, for things that were never in anyone’s control. Now if you would please lean forward, I need to get to the lock.”

Tony chewed on the piece of straw until it had a flat edge. He then stuck the straw into the lock, fiddling with it and listening closely to the sound of the gears. He seemed satisfied and jammed the straw in firmly, before taking the lock in hand and adjusting it until he had it at the perfect angle.

“Sorry this is going to jerk you around a little bit,” said Tony before he took the lock and smashed it into the floor of the cell several times. The lock sprung open and Tony immediately got to work releasing the man’s arms from the shackles.

“Well that was impressive,” said the man, stretching his hands and arms, rubbing them to get the blood flowing, “What is your name?”

“Anthony Stark, though people call me Tony. Blacksmith. Not a witch.” Tony stuck out a hand to shake. When the other man returned his handshake, Tony could feel jagged scars covering the other prisoner’s hand.

“Well Tony, I am—”

The man was interrupted by a key turning the lock and the door swinging open. There was a guard in the doorway, holding two bowls and his eyes immediately shot to the other man’s freed state.

“Oi! What are you doing? How’d you get out of those chains?” The man went to put down the bowls on the ground, “I got to tell them you got out, you’ll be punished for this, you devil!”

The injured man stumbled up to his feet and made a few quick shaky hand movements, a mandala of light appearing in front of one hand, “Sleep!” The mandala shot out and showered the man in a glittering light, making him slump to the ground in unconsciousness.

Tony plastered himself against the wall in horror at what he had seen. The other man wasn’t concerned with the blacksmith’s shock though and did a few movements, creating a larger mandala this time. The mandala started to spin wildly until the man thrust it against the bars, melting them and creating a hole big enough for them to step out into the hallway. The man gingerly stepped over the remaining bars and Tony Stark found that his voice had returned.

“Wha—What are you? Who are you?”

“My name is Stephen Strange, and unlike you, _I am_ a witch. Now are you coming?”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen make their daring escape.

**Chapter Two: The Hunt Begins**

“You’re a what now?” asked Tony, following the man out of the cell.

“You heard me, there are names I prefer for what I consider myself, but witch will do,” said Strange in a whisper, looking up and down the candle lit corridor.

“So, magic is real? All those people they’ve killed actually have been doing magic?”

“No,” said Strange sharply. “I mean yes, magic is real, I just did magic to get us out of the cell, but those people---almost all of them had never even heard of the mystic arts.”

“Okay, okay,” said Tony, composing himself, “So you used...magic to get us out of the cell, you want to use magic to get us out of the _prison_?”

“You are free to go, though I would warn you there are almost certainly more guards about that you will run into. But first I need to collect something of mine from the warden’s office.” Strange started to tread carefully down the hallway.

Tony looked after him and considered his options. He was out of the cell, but he was still on the fourth floor of a building with six-inch stone walls, and he would surely encounter a series of locked doors and a few more guards on his way out. If he had his gadgets he could manage it, but as he was, he’d probably just receive a beating and a swifter trial and execution.

“I think I’ll stick with you if that’s all right,” said Tony, following behind the witch.

“Suit yourself, but I will leave you behind in pinch.”

“Likewise.”  

They were about to round the corner to the next hallway leading to the warden’s office when Strange suddenly stopped and flattened himself against the wall, grabbing Tony’s sleeve and stopping the blacksmith in his tracks.

Tony moved against the wall too, peeking around the corner. There was a guard leaning against a window, whistling to himself, obviously fighting off sleepiness. Tony pulled back next to Stephen. “Can you make him sleep too? Looks like he’s halfway there.”

Strange had a calculating look on his face, “I could, but why be so crude? Let’s have some fun.”

Strange moved his fingers around and moisture started to seep through the walls, water pulled from stone itself and from various water buckets found throughout the prison. The water gathered in front of them in a blob and then started to elongate and take shape. Hair, eyes, a mouth and all of the basic human features appeared on the water until there was the image of a young woman shimmering in the moonlight that came through from the barred windows. The image was so detailed Tony was shocked to find that he recognized the girl.

Strange made a swiping motion and the water woman’s feet slide across the floor, turning the corner. Next Tony heard the guard gasp and drop his club, “It can’t, it ca-can’t be you.” The next sound was a large thud on the floor of the hallway.

Tony and Strange both peeked around the corner and saw the guard fainted dead away in the middle of the hallway, with the watery illusion in front of him. They crept down the hallway, around the figure and past the fainted guard.

Tony looked back at the girl, “Moll Staple. I’d seen her around town with her younger siblings before.” He turned to Stephen, who had a somber look on his face.

“I only knew her as a passing acquaintance also, I made a poultice for her grandmother once. She was a sweet girl, talked a lot. She refused the advances of a boy in town and one thing led to another, she got accused of being a witch and it was over for Moll. That guard thought it was her ghost come for her revenge.”

The figure’s face was undeniably Moll’s, but the eyes were so dead and lacking. The real Moll had been vibrant and full of life, a great future set out in front of her with a loving husband and several children. This shade was a pale imitation.

“I’m sorry, my dear,” said Stephen bringing up a glowing hand to cup her watery cheek, but the water bubbled beneath his palm and she transformed to steam that rose up and floated away.

“That guard will rethink his career,” said Stephen, wiping his face and turning around back towards the end of the hallway.

Tony looked up at the damp ceiling where the steam had settled and seeped through for another moment before bending down and snatching something off the guard and following behind Stephen.

With just a few more turns, they came to the door that led to the warden’s office. “Well?” asked Tony, “Are you going to do that spinny magic wheel thing you did to get us out of the cell.”

Stephen inspected the door, looking it up and down for weak spots. But the solid oak structure didn’t seem to have any defects. “I’d rather not have them know that I had gotten in here if I can help it.”

“Can’t turn yourself really small and go under the crack at the bottom and then make yourself big again on the other side and unlock the door?” asked Tony.

“I know magic is new for you, but our abilities are limited, believe it or not.”

“Well maybe I can help you then, step aside witch,” said Tony as he saddled up to the door, looking at the lock.

“Shall I fetch you another piece of straw?” asked Stephen, leaning against the wall. The fact that he had been beaten was becoming more evident. He was looked more and more tired.

“I’m more equipped this time,” said Tony, pulling out the pin that he had grabbed off the guard’s uniform, “I never got a thank you, by the way.”

“Interesting,” said Strange, “Neither did I.”

Tony laughed, “Fair enough.” He got to work fiddling with the pin in the lock, wiggling it around and taking it out to bend it ever so slightly and trying again. “It’s a bit trickier than an old pair of rusty shackles.”

“Are you some type of thief then? Spirited into a room, stole something and spirited yourself out? They thought it must be witchcraft that transported you?” asked Stephen.

“No, not at all. I’m a blacksmith.”

“How does a blacksmith get accused of witchcraft? Were you just too good at blacksmithing?”

“That was a part of it, I do believe yes,” said Tony. The lock clicked, and Tony let out a quiet “huzzah!” as he opened the door.

Inside there was a large desk with a high-back chair sitting behind it, there were shelves and a hutch against the wall. Stephen got busy looking through the drawers of the desk, trying his best not to disturb what was inside. He looked through the hutch but did not find what he was looking for.

Tony stayed by the door, listening for any alarming commotion. They had left the bodies of two guards strewn about on the floor of the prison. That was bound to raise the alarm bells.

And it came as no surprise when Tony hears the shouting from down the hall. “Hey Strange, whatever you are looking for, I think you might need to find it.”

He can hear yells and doors to cells being flung open. Feet pounding down the corridors. He considers taking off without Strange, but is still too reluctant to separate himself from the magic user.

“Can’t you use magic to find it?” asked Tony, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

“There is _one_ spell, but it will take a lot out of me.”

“Well I’m sorry it will make you tired, but you need to use it now so we can get out of here.”

Stephen held out his hands, palms out and he turned either which way scanning the room with his eyes closed. Whatever he was doing led him to the desk, where he slipped a hand underneath the top and he pushed a hidden button. An unseen drawer popped out revealing a small golden trinket with two finger holes in it. Strange snagged the trinket and walked over to a metal crest nailed to the wall, laying his hand on the crest he drew molten metal from it and shaped a replica of the trinket in his palm. He put his fake back in the drawer and popped it shut.

“Okay, now that we have your jewelry we really need to get going,” ground out Tony. But now the footsteps were getting closer and guards were unlocking each room adjacent to the office, checking to see if the escaped prisoners were in them.

Finally someone stopped in front of the door of the office and Tony could hear someone looking through their keys to find the right one. He stared at the door in horror as the key was inserted and he was just about to look for a place to hide when someone grabbed the back of his shirt and he was tumbling down onto the grass.

Wait, grass?

Tony looked up just in time to see a fiery portal close, through which he could see the door of the office springing open.

“What just happened?” asked Tony, but Strange was slumped on the ground, and completely unresponsive considering he was unconscious.

“I guess you weren’t lying about that spell taking its toll,” and Tony as he moved Stephen over so he would be in a more comfortable position.

Tony wondered what he should do now, he surveyed his surroundings and came to the conclusion that he was in the woods around the prison. He couldn’t tarry for very long, he was sure that the guards would be combing the area for them soon. But should he just leave Strange here? He did get him out when he could’ve just left him.

While thinking about what to do, he heard a twig snap and he spun around, surveying the dark woods around him but saw nothing. He rolled Stephen as quietly as possible into the indentation of a tree’s roots and covered him with some leaves, before backing up into some foliage, his stomach against the ground.

Tony didn’t have to wait long before a figure entered into the dark clearing he was hiding in. Whoever it was, wasn’t very tall and they had a hood up over his head, hiding their features. They were also hauling a big bag over their shoulder.

Tony watched the figure walk past him, realizing whoever it was wasn’t looking for them. They seemed like they had some sort of target they were heading towards.

Or were heading towards, until their foot caught the root that Stephen was hidden next to and the person fell down with a yelp.

A yelp Tony recognized instantly. He’d heard it a few times in the forge when his apprentice had gotten a bit too close to still hold instruments.

Tony rolled his eyes and crawled out from under the foliage and stood up, brushing off his tunic and trousers. “Peter Parker! What are you doing out at this hour?” he barked out. The boy scrambled to his feet at the sound of his master’s voice and pulled back his hood.

The boy’s shocked face morphed into a delighted grin when he saw Tony. “Mr. Stark!” cried the boy as he ran forward to hug the older man. Tony held out a hand to stop him and he pat the boy on the shoulder instead.

“Mr. Stark how did you escape? Did they let you go?” asked Peter, still not quite believing his master was standing there in front of him.

Tony sighed, “No, I am very much an escaped prisoner.”

“I was coming to save you!” said Peter, swinging the bag around to show Tony, “I brought your inventions! I was going to use them to break into the prison and get you out. But of course you got yourself out, you are a genius after all.”

Tony rubbed his face with his hand, this kid would be the death of him. Tony would scold the boy later for his short-sighted and not well thought out plan, since Peter had only seen Tony use the devices, he didn’t know why the boy thought he could use them for a rescue mission. But first he needed to introduce Peter to someone.

“Actually, I wouldn’t have gotten out without his help,” said Tony pointing to the lump in the tree roots that was Stephen Strange.

Peter followed the length of Tony’s finger and jumped in fright. “Is that a dead body? Did you kill someone?”

“What? No! He’s just unconscious, what makes you think I could kill someone?”

“Prison changes people.”

“I was in prison for one night! But _anyway_ that’s Stephen Strange, he used his magic to help us to escape.”

Peter laughed, “Good one, Mr. Stark. What do you mean by magic?”

“I mean _magic_.”

Peter quirked an eyebrow, “Magic, like real magic? Like what people thought you were doing?”

“Yes, portals and illusions and all kinds of spells. It’s been a long night.”

“So, he’s a witch?” Peter eyed the lump skeptically, not sure if he completely bought Tony’s explanation or not. “What are we supposed to do with him? We can’t stay here, the prison is too close, but if he saved you, we can’t leave him here.”

“I mean, he’s not exactly _not guilty_ of his crimes, is he? Unlike yours truly, who has never done a spell in his life,”

Peter looked at Tony horrified at what the man was implying, “Mr. Stark we are not going to just abandon him. It’s...unchristian!”

“So’s witchcraft! And since when have I ever been Christian anyway?” said a frustrated Tony.

“Well maybe if you went to church once in a while we wouldn’t be in this situation,” said Peter, but when he found himself on the receiving end of a cold glare, he deflated. “Sorry, Mr. Stark,” mumbled the teenager.

Tony knew that the boy was right though, he couldn’t just leave the man here. He owed him and if Tony was being perfectly honest, he was wanted to see more of what the man could do. And so he sighed and told Peter to help him get Stephen up, they needed to get as far away as possible before the sun came up.

xxx

The warden of the prison was briefed when he arrived the next morning from his home on horseback. His men had searched the area around the prison all night but had found nothing. The guards that were stationed at the front gates of the prison swore there was no way anyone could’ve gotten past them. They must have had two very powerful witches in their hands for them to slip away from the inside the prison without a trace except for two unconscious guards and a hole in the cell’s bars. The warden seethed with anger that they had been put in the same cell, they were meant to be in separate confinements.

So yes, the warden’s day started off bad, but it was about to get even worse for when he turned the lock to his office and pushed in he almost let out a scream at the figure sitting at his desk, his hands steepled under his chin. In the corner, another man stood at attention.

“Ah, Warden, good of you to join us this fine morning,” said the man at his desk. Even sitting down it was obvious, was tall, his limbs thin and lanky. He must have been older, at least in his late 50s, with pock-marked pale skin and grey, thin hair swept back down the back of his head. He was wearing black, well-tailored clothing, a sort of uniform that the man in the corner was also wearing, though the man in the corner’s face was obscured by a wide-brimmed hat. The man at the desk had small, dark eyes that watched the man in front of him with a calculating air.

The man stood up from the desk, straightening up to his complete height. He held out one skeletal hand to the Warden, who shook it cautiously, “My name is Ebonious Maw, I have come to help you with a problem I see you have.”

“The Witch-Hunter General,” said the Warden in awe, Maw’s exploits were legendary, he had cleared many a county of its witch problem.

“Oh good, you’ve heard of me,” said Maw, “That makes things easier. And this is my Witch-Hunter Lieutenant Karl Mordo.” The man with dark skin in the corner did not move to introduce himself.

Maw paced the office, his long legs taking him back and forth from either side with ease, “Now we came in the expectation that there would be a witch or two to examine and yet we arrived this morning to find that you are all out of witches. And then we were ushered into this, quite frankly, drab little office to wait for you. Would you care to explain what happened here?”

“Well, I think it can be said without a doubt we had our hands on some witches.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You can come look at the cell bars that were burnt out and melted in their escape, and we think they created an illusion to spook one of the guards.”

“Hmm,” said Maw, “Sounds promising. What were their names?”

“Anthony Stark, local blacksmith, accused of business with the devil that caused him to fly through the air.”

“A local, then? Lived here all his life?” When the Warden nodded, Maw waved with off, “What about the other one?”

“Name was Silas Bower. Moved to town a couple of years ago and was living in an old cottage close to the forest. He made money by selling medicines he made in his home. We had to bring him in when his medicines started doing work that only the Lord and his angels should be able to do. We were in the process of interrogating him but his will was strong.”

Maw had stopped his pacing and was intrigued, “Interesting, most interesting. Warden, in our witch-hunting sometimes we are looking for known culprits that had given us the slip, so I have to ask you Warden, did you get a good look at this Mr. Bower’s hands?”

The Warden was slightly taken aback, “Oh yes, they had some awful scars on them. I was surprised they were still functional.”

“And his eyes?” the question this time came from Mordo, who had sprung to life the minute he heard the answer. “What color were his eyes?”

The Warden thought for a moment, “Oh they were particular I suppose, it’s so dark in this jail you don’t normally notice eye color. They were blue? Grey? Either way they had a way of shining in the torchlight. The guards thought that was from the devil inside him.”

“It’s Strange,” said Mordo sharply, “We have found him.”

Maw gave Mordo a smirk before turning back to the Warden, “Did you take anything off of him? A sort of device that looked like a double ring?”

“Yes actually,” said the Warden in a surprised voice, “Put it in my secret compartment in my desk.” The Warden walked behind his desk and opened the hiding place. He held out the gold trinket proudly for the older man.

Maw took it from him, turning it over and inspecting it, “That’s a nice little trick you have there, Warden. But the man you are dealing with has better ones.” Maw slammed the ring on the desk and it instantly shattered and crumbled. “A fake.”

Mordo walked up to his superior, “If he has his sling ring he could be anywhere by now.”

“Not after the display he put on last night, on top of the torture I’m sure they’ve already inflicted. He’s probably drained,” said Maw.

“Is that how he escaped? That ring thing?” asked the Warden.

“Yes, and that means that we must be going post-haste. He is a very dangerous, wanted criminal and I assure sir, we will bring him back to you, one way or another. I have never failed in these ventures,” said Maw with a sinister smile.

“You uh, do remember there’s two, right, two witches?” asked Warden nervously.

“Oh yes, this Anthony Stark the blacksmith, we will bring him back too, I promise you,” said Maw.

“And uh, what about payment?”

“Payment? Oh no, no my good sir,” said Maw with a shake of the head, “We do this for the good of the realm, not money. Now come along Mordo.”

The two men left the office without another word, Mordo tipping his hat as he walked past the Warden.

As they walked down the corridor, Mordo addressed his superior, “Sir, where shall we start?”

“There are two towns within a few hours riding distance of here, we will separate and search the popular inns there. He is injured and will need to rest. He are so close, Mordo, I can feel it. He shall not slip out of our grasp this time.”

They exited the jail and walked towards the woods surrounding the building. No one had noted how odd it was that they had not arrived on horses. Who needed horses when you had sling-rings?

They pulled out said rings and opened two portals, stepped through them before closing them again. The hunt was officially _on._

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our trio has a run in in the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so someone asked me about Peter's powers and to clarify---I'm probably going to stick to those with magical powers and those without. So sorry Peter, I may change my mind but at least for now, he will stay just a very smart, very caring teen.

**Chapter Three**

Tony and Peter struggled to carry Strange’s dead weight between the two of them through the forest and away from the prison. It was still dark, and they kept bumping into rocks and stumps, Peter apologizing to the comatose Strange each time.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just dump him?” asked Tony, slightly out of breath. “Maybe I’d feel differently if he wasn’t so tall, but I can’t exactly just sling him over my shoulder.”

Peter looked around at their surroundings, they had been walking for a couple of hours, the prison should be well behind them, “Maybe we can rest for a bit? I know you haven’t gotten any sleep.”

“Sounds good to me, kid,” said Tony and they worked to settle down Stephen into some grass on his side. Tony bent the unconscious man’s arm under his head in a more comfortable position and he could almost feel the kid’s eyes on him.

“What?” asked Tony, “The guy has is mostly bruise, I’m not cruel.”

“A not cruel person wouldn’t want to just abandon him in the forest.”

“Well, let’s see if a little nap makes me even less cruel for the sake of Mr. Witch here,” said Tony, settling against a tree.

“I’ll be the look out!” said Peter, settling in on a boulder.

“Sure thing, Pete, I’m counting on you,” said Tony, resting his head back against the tree with a yawn.

A few hours later Tony was startled awake by a swift kick to his leg. He jolted upright about to yell at Peter but found that he was looking down the shaft of an arrow instead. An arrow being aimed by a short hairy man.

Behind the man with the bow, there was a tall, shirtless muscular man who had Peter by the shoulder.

“Sorry Mr. Stark, I’m not the greatest lookout,” said Peter miserably.

The two didn’t say much, and refused to answer Tony’s questions, and the man with bulging muscles pushed Peter over to Tony. He then went and picked up Stephen off the ground and put him over his shoulder with ease. “Show off,” grumbled Tony.

“Okay, you two, let’s get going,” said the hairy man in a Cockney accent.

The man followed on behind Tony and Peter, his arrow still drawn and trained on them, “Don’t you go thinking of escaping, now. You won’t make it far.”

“Where are you taking us?” demanded Tony.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” said the hairy man.

“Can’t you let the kid go? What’s he worth to you?”

“Why do you think any of you are worth anything to us?” asked the man.

“Aren’t you bounty hunters?” asked Tony.

“Why? You got a bounty on your head?”

“He only has _hair_ on his head,” said the man in the front carrying Strange.

“Ugh, no more questions, we just want to _talk,_ we don’t hurt kids so don’t worry about your boy” snapped the short hairy man.

“We can talk here, and he’s not my boy,” said Tony.

“No, we talk back at our camp,” said the hairy man. They walked for about another half hour before coming to a clearing with some tents constructed around a fire pit. Sitting on a log by the fire was a roguish looking man with a dark-skinned woman. They both stood up when the others came into their view.

“Who are these guys?” said the rogue.

“We found them sleeping next to this poor sap I think they might have beat up and robbed,” said the hairy man pointing at Stephen who the larger man was laying down on a spread-out bedroll by the fire.

Tony noted that he said they were both sleeping, and he had to remind Peter later what the duties of a lookout entailed. But there were more important matters at hand, “We didn’t beat him up.”

“Yeah, who did then?” asked the rogue.

Tony bit his lip, not wanting to reveal his fugitive status, “Not us. Look, we just need to wait until he wakes up and he can tell you that we were traveling together.” All of this was technically true, they had been moving, through the forest, together, at least. “Now you want to tell me who you guys are?”

The rogue approached Tony holding out a hand, “Name’s Quill. Peter Quill and this here is Lady Gamora.” He gestured to the woman sharping her knife by the fire. “Gamora is just fine,” said the woman. Yeah, the way she handled that knife didn’t make her look like a member of the nobility.

“And I’m Rocket,” said the hairy man, going to sit by the fire.

“Is that your Christian name? Or are you just really…explosive?” asked Tony.

“You want to find out, mate?” asked Rocket, before pulling out an apple and chomping down on it. “And this is Drax, he’s our muscle,” said Rocket, voice muffled with chewing.

“I have many muscles not just one,” said Drax in a very matter a fact way.

“Okay. Anyway,” said Tony, “What is it you guys do? Are you highwaymen? Oh, and _highwaylady_ of course.”

“We have no money!” blurted out Peter.

“Kid, for the love of all things holy let me do the talking,” said Tony.

“We aren’t ruffians, we are the good guys actually. We look out for this area, keep people safe from criminals. And you sir, you look like a criminal,” said Quill.

“Bold accusations, what makes you say that?”

“Not a lot of good honest folk camped in these woods in such small numbers. Especially with a beaten man who you won’t tell us how he was beaten. It all sounds so awfully suspicious,” said Quill.

“What’s in the bag?” asked Gamora. Peter still had the large black bag slung over his back.

“It’s none of your concern,” said Tony.

“Look, I don’t think you understand what is happening here, you’re going to give us answers or things are going to get nasty,” said Quill with a sneer.

“Yeah, mister, we wouldn’t want that to happen,” said Rocket tossing away the apple core into the grass and standing up, picking up his bow and pulling an arrow taunt. “Start talking,”

“You have no authority! We are innocent, I demand—”

“Not like that,” scoffed Rocket and he released an arrow. The arrow was meant to fly past Tony’s arm and spook the blacksmith, merely a threat. And it would have, Rocket had excellent aim. He didn’t count on Peter Parker crying out, “Mr. Stark!” and flinging himself in the way of the arrow.

The arrow sliced the boy’s upper arm and he fell on the ground with a groan, the bag tumbling off his back. Tony watched in horror as blood blossomed on his apprentice’s shirt sleeve.

Tony wasn’t paralyzed for long though and he looked at Rocket, the blacksmith lifting his hand which was covered in a glove he had managed to put on before taking their nap. He bent a few fingers forwards pressing them into the palm. Tiny spiked balls flew out of his shirt sleeve and were aimed straight at the archer.

“Stop!” cried a voice and the projectiles froze in mid-air before glowing red and then melting onto the ground in fat drops until they were no more.

Everyone gathered stared in shock with Drax letting out an exclamation of, “Witchcraft!”. Stephen was stumbling to his feet, looking dazed.

“I don’t know what is going on here, but please, can we not fight? I’ve had enough violence at the moment,” said Stephen tiredly.

“This… _rodent_ attacked Peter!” exclaimed Tony as he rushed over to the boy, who was holding his arm in pain.

“Rodent? It was supposed to be a warning shot! How was I supposed to know the kid would dive in front of you?” asked Rocket.

“Silence!” cried Stephen as he stepped over to where Peter lay, “Hello Peter, I’m Stephen Strange.”

“Hello,” Peter said trying to extend his hand to shake but quickly withdrawing it with a hiss, “I’m Mr. Stark’s apprentice. Are you really a witch?”

“Didn’t the show with your employer’s projectiles prove that?” asked Stephen bemusedly.

“You can’t be sure. Can you use your magic to fix my arm?”

Stephen bent down, his own face looking pained as he did so, “I think, but it’s probably not the kind of magic you are thinking of.”

Tony knelt, removing his light jacket and tucking it under Peter’s head, “That was really stupid kid.”

“I think it was brave,” said Stephen, giving Peter a wink.

“Don’t encourage him.”

At that moment more people entered the clearing, a young woman with dark hair and eyes with a little boy, possibly around 5 years old, sitting on her shoulders. The boy had leaves all in his hair and woven into links that lay around his neck.

“Oh, what’s going on here?” asked the woman as the little boy scrambled off her shoulders, “New friends?”

“Not exactly,” grumbled Quill.

“I am Groot!” called the little boy running around the newcomers.

“Groot?” asked Tony.

“Hi Groot,” said Peter through clenched teeth as Stephen looked over the wound.

“Are any of you good at identifying plants of the healing variety?” asked Stephen.

Later Stephen was stitching up the teenager. Instead of using his hands though, the needle was floating in and out Peter’s pinched skin. Peter was too fascinated to feel queasy at the sight. The two women, Gamora and Mantis had fetched some plants from the forest that Stephen had managed to press into a paste that he would slather on Peter’s stitched up wound. It would ward off infection.

“So, you guys are escaped witches then?” asked Quill, sitting back at the fire, the little boy who had proclaimed his name was Groot sitting on his lap.

“Witch. Singular. As in he’s the only witch here,” said Tony.

“A bride of Satan wouldn’t just openly admit to being a witch,” said Drax.

“Really? A ‘bride of Satan’? Is that what you think I am? I’m a blacksmith,” said Tony.

“A blacksmith that was accused of witchcraft,” said Stephen applying his mixture to Peter’s skin as gently as possible. “I’d ask how, but after seeing one of your devices in action. I can guess what happened.”

“Devices? How do you know there are more than one?” asked Tony.

“Isn’t that what’s in your bag of tricks? Let me guess, someone saw what you did with your inventions and someone cried ‘witch’?”

“More like someone wanted me out of the way, but yes you are more or less correct,” grumbled Tony.

Gamora coughed loudly from her position by the fire to get their attention. “Mr. Witch, did you live in that old cottage out past that Weasleys’ farm?” she asked.

“It’s Stephen, and yes, that was my last place of residence,” said Stephen.

“I’ve heard you’ve helped out a good number of families around here,” said Gamora.

“Too many, it turns out. I got sloppy.”

“What happened?” asked Quill.

“A woman came to me after she had lost her sight. She was having awful headaches. I now believe she had cancer of the brain,” said Strange.

“Had? She died then?” asked Tony.

“No, quite the opposite really. I gave her a potion to drink that would help with the headaches, endued with my magic of course. It really was just supposed to help with the headaches, but lo and behold she woke up the next morning and her sight had returned. I’m sure her cancer was completely cured. Miraculously. But people, especially those that live by themselves in cottages on the edge of town, cannot perform _miracles._ So, I accidentally saved that woman’s life and condemned mine.”

“Eh, tough luck, doc. So, you are on the run from the authorities?” asked Rocket.

“We haven’t really established what it is you do exactly,” said Tony with suspicion, “Are you the authorities?”

“Ha!” laughed Quill, “Nah, we work sometimes with the law but mostly we work around it, saving travelers and accepting their kind shows of gratitude and the like.”

“We are the Guardians,” said Mantis cheerfully, “We help people!”

“For a price,” said Tony.

“Don’t worry Stark,” said Quill “Your secret is safe with me.”

“What secret? That I’m not a witch?” asked Tony.

“He’s your secret,” said Quill pointing to Stephen who was wrapping a bandage around Peter’s arm.

“He’s not my anything!” said Tony frustratedly. “We just escaped prison together.”

“Where are you heading?” asked Gamora.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been on the run,” said Strange, “I just need to get to closest largest town and then I will disappear.”

“We know this forest better than anyone—“I am Groot!” yes especially you Groot, and can get you to town by using a secret series of paths,” said Gamora.

“What!?” exclaimed Rocket, Quill and Drax at once. “Why should be personally escort these strangers to town?” asked Rocket.

“Because you almost killed an innocent child, we owe them,” said Gamora.

“Sounds like Rocket is the only one who owes them, I didn’t almost murder the boy,” grumbled Drax.

“Shut it!” cried Rocket.

Quill stood up and approached Stephen, who was resting against a tree trunk next to Peter, “Of course, we could use a healer, especially one with magical talents, you could join our motley crew if you wish.”

“No invitation for Peter and I?” asked Tony in a haughty manner.

“Don’t have a lot of stuff needing forging,” said Quill.

“Thank you for the offer, but I cannot stay in this area, I will draw too much attention. I don’t need to be guided to the city I can use my sling ring—”

Strange halted his speech and looked around disoriented for a moment.

“Strange? Everything alright?” asked Tony.

“I don’t, I don’t think—” said Stephen before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he started to convulse. He was about to fall over but Peter managed to grab his tunic and Tony lunged forward to lie him on his side on the ground.

“Strange! What’s happening?” asked Tony, putting his hand on Stephen’s shoulder as he shook. After only about a minute he stilled, his breathing evening out.

“It was the devil in him dancing!” cried Drax.

“Oh shut up you superstitious asshole!” replied Rocket.

“I think he’s alright now,” said Gamora.

“Do you know what that was?” asked Stark, staying close to Stephen.

“There was a stable boy on my father’s estate, he got kicked in the head by a horse one day. He lay unconscious for a few days but eventually woke up and seemingly recovered. But then the fits began. They’d happen at random, but especially when the boy was tired and overheated. Which is often for a stable boy. Sometimes they were like the one your friend just had, sometimes they included him vomiting or soiling himself. The stable hands tried to keep the boy’s condition secret but eventually my father found out. And the boy was sent away.”

“Where did he go?” asked Mantis.

Gamora turned her head away, her eyes downcast, “I did not ask.”

 “So, this sounds like a medical condition, not something to do with his magic,” said Tony.

“That’s probably correct,” said Gamora.

Peter took Tony’s jacket that had been serving as his pillow and tucked it under Stephen’s head. Stephen just appeared to be sleeping. Tony couldn’t believe he was still stuck with a comatose sorcerer.

“What do you want to do?” asked Rocket.

Tony considered his options; he and Peter could be rid of their magical acquaintance and have a much smaller target on their back. They could leave now and then Stephen could simply portal away when he woke up.

“Mr. Stark,” said Peter interrupting his thoughts, “He saved you and now he’d saved me.”

“‘Saved’ is a pretty strong word, kid, it was a scratch.”

“Mr. Stark, please, let’s stay with him, just make sure he’s okay.”

Tony sighed, his nagging conscious getting to him again. “Is it okay if we hang around for a couple of more hours?” asked Tony to Quill.

“Suit yourself, we are in no hurry,” replied Quill.

“Well, okay,” said Tony, “But if he swoons on me one more time, I am gone.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark!”

Tony settled in next to Stephen, hoping he wouldn’t regret his decision.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen part ways.

Stephen dozed by the campsite for a few hours, Peter hesitant to leave his side. Tony told the teen to grab some sleep too while he could and Peter agreed, laying down next to Stephen and nodding off. 

Meanwhile, Tony spoke with the madcap group that referred to themselves as the “Guardians” and came to the conclusion that they were just a ramshackle collection of misfits that had slipped between the cracks of society. Some of them with obviously fake names. Quill was an orphan who had been snatched from his grandfather’s farm by a group of highwaymen who had raised him to be a thief. Rocket was a classic con man who refused to talk about his inevitably tragic past, unlike Drax openly talked about losing his wife and daughter. Mantis had run off from his abusive father and they had found Groot wandering the forest a few months back, only saying the phrase, “I am Groot.” Gamora was the most fascinating of the group, as it had already been alluded to that she was of noble birth. But when Quill tried to explain her past in detail she had reached over and slapped his arm. 

Tony could see the comradery amongst the group, the affection was clear between their squabbles. The group put him at ease somehow, even if Tony found their antics and accounts of their adventures a bit ridiculous. But these were the people that Tony’s new life had thrown him in with. He probably should get used to it. 

Tony’s new life. 

Why couldn’t he have been content with repairing farm equipment and making horse shoes? 

Finally Stephen arose, shakingly pulling himself to his feet with Mantis’ help. The young woman looked a little distressed when she took Stephen’s hand. “You are in much pain,” she said. 

“Well getting beaten will do that for you,” said Stephen, coming to sit next to Tony by the fire. 

“What was with that fit you had?” asked Rocket sharply from his place across the fire pit. “That have to do with your magic?”

“Oh no,” replied Stephen, “There was nothing otherworldly about that. I was in an accident several years ago.” He lifted up his scarred hands to show the group, “Left me with a tremor in my hands and a tendency to have seizures at random. Though if I am tired or worked up they are more likely.” 

“Can’t you fix it with magic?” asked Quill. 

Stephen took some offered bread from Gamora, thanking the woman, “My magic isn’t exactly transformative. But I can work around the problem with my hands, as you saw me do with stitching Peter’s wound. But the seizures? Nothing I have tried yet has worked.” He tore off a large bite of bread with his teeth, effectively ending that conversation. 

They chatted amicably and Quill and Gamora left to go hunting, wishing the trio luck in their endeavours. Drax approached Stephen tentatively. 

“So witch, you are a man of medicine and magic?” 

“I suppose you could put it that way,” replied Stephen. 

“Can you look at this boil on the back of my thigh?” 

Stephen looked like he would rather do literally anything else, “If I must.”

Tony watched on in amusement as Stephen tended to the abcess and scolded Drax for his whimpering and flinching. “All those muscles, someone might believe you are a tough guy,” said Stephen. 

“Why, thank you,” said Drax, the sarcasm completely lost on him. 

Eventually the sun was high in the sky and they needed to move along. Tony went and roused Peter, and gathered up the bag containing his supplies and inventions. Stephen pulled out his sling ring. 

“I’ll open a portal just outside the next town,” Stephen told Tony. “Unless you would rather part ways now and travel on foot?”

“I think I’ll take the fast route,” said Tony. 

“Wait a minute, you got a magic ring that can transport you anywhere?” asked Rocket. 

“Within reason,” said Stephen.

“Ah,” said Rocket, “You got another one of those you wouldn’t mind parting with?”

“Do you even have that much money?” asked Tony with an eyebrow raised. 

“I was thinking as a parting gift after we were the most gracious hosts.”

“You mean after you forced us to come here, injured my apprentice, and then had Strange mend your own maladies?” asked Tony. 

“Well, I see  _ someone _ doesn’t appreciate our hospitality.”

Stephen and Peter both accepted packs that contained some food from Mantis. “For your wounds,” said the cheerful woman. Both thanked her, appreciating that their detour wasn’t a complete waste of time. 

Stephen then next brought up his hands and opened a portal to a wooded clearing close to the next town. The Guardians watched in amazement as Stephen stepped through. 

Tony was going to simply follow but Peter grabbed his shirt sleeve. “Are you sure it’s safe, Mr. Stark?” 

“Of course Peter, Stephen just did it, look he’s right there and he’s fine.”

Stephen called out from the other side, “Yes Peter, it’s perfectly safe.”

Peter was still a little unsure, looking the portal up and down and shaking a bit. Stephen stepped forward and thrust his hand through, “Here, Peter, take my hand.”

Peter looked at Tony who gave him a nod and Peter took ahold of Stephen’s hand. The sorcerer kept the boy steady as he stepped on through over to the other side. Tony followed behind them. 

Peter waved happily to the Guardians calling goodbye and thanking them, despite the fact that the wound on his arm was their fault. Mantis, Groot in her arms, waved back enthusiastically. Then Stephen closed the portal and their new acquaintances were far behind them. 

The trio stood awkwardly around where the portal had been closed, and Tony toed the ground. “So, I guess this is where we part ways finally?” he asked. 

“Soon, there’s no sense in walking off in different directions when the town is right over there,” replied Stephen, “Let’s walk together, just a little while more.” They fought their way through the underbrush before they arrived at the path that wound down into town. 

“What are you going to do then?” asked Peter, following behind the two adults. “Are you going to portal away and start a new life somewhere?” 

“Eventually, I suppose, first I would like a nice sleep and a bath. There’s an inn in this town whose owner owes me a favor. I think I can manage to get one free night out of her.”

“And then you’ll portal away and start a new life?”

Stephen laughed, “Yes, I guess that’s what I must do.” 

“Can we come?” asked Peter eagerly. Tony reached back and whacked his uninjured arm. Stephen looked back and smiled at the boy though, “Sorry, Peter it’s not in your best interest to attach yourselves to a witch. And it’s better if I’m alone anyway. I don’t want to drag anyone down with me.”

“That sounds awfully lonely,” said Peter sadly. 

“Do you think you will get caught again?” asked Tony. 

“I’m going to try not to.”

“You seem like you have medical training, can’t you find legitimate employment?” asked Tony. 

Stephen sighed, “The first issue is my hands, but I could find some sort of work despite that I know. But then there’s the seizures. Those would put a stigma on me even if I wasn’t suspected of witchcraft. And the third thing, how could I not help people if I know that I can? How can I not use magic to tweak a medicine and save someone’s life?” 

“Sounds risky to me,” said Tony. 

“It’s a risk that I have chosen to take.”

“How very noble of you,” said Tony, only slightly sarcastically. 

They started to pass more and more wagons and foot traffic and quickly found themselves on the outskirts of the town. This town was bigger than Tony’s hometown, and the blacksmith felt like it would be a good place for him and his assistant to disappear. 

Finally they came to a crossroads, one way that would lead to the city market. It was mid afternoon and the area was bustling with people. Stephen stopped and turned to Tony, “I’m off this way to the inn. What will you and Peter do?” 

“I have a few things in my pack I can sell, and maybe I can get some quick repair work on the spot and they’ll allow us to bed down in their barn or something. I’d like to make some space between me and that jail, if I can.”

“I can do some scholarly work! Reading and writing letters and such!” exclaimed Peter. 

“You can read and write, Peter?” asked Strange. 

Peter nodded quickly, “Yes! I love reading, my parents taught me.” 

“That’s very impressive.” 

“Yes, I’m good at a lot of things. Like following orders and staying out of the way...I don’t suppose you need an apprentice do you?” Tony elbowed the boy saying, “Seriously? You’re trying to ditch me?” 

Peter gave Tony a sheepish look and Stephen laughed and shook his head at the two. 

“Well, I wish you the best, both of you, thank you for not leaving me in the woods,” said Strange, sticking out a hand for Tony to shake. Tony was careful not to shake too firmly, afraid he would irritate Stephen’s injuries. 

“And thank you for the whole, breaking me out of prison thing,” said Tony. 

“And thank you for the seeing to my wound thing,” said Peter. 

“Yes, you’ll need to redress that wound tonight with a fresh bandage, I hope you can manage that.”

“I’ll see that it gets done,” said Tony. 

“Okay, well, goodbye then,” said Stephen awkwardly with a nod of his head, before turning around and walking off in the other direction. 

Peter and Tony watched him walk away and then Peter turned to Tony. “What?” ground out Tony to his young charge. 

“He was nice,” said Peter, “I wish he could’ve stayed.” 

“Why? Because you wanted to learn some magic? Think he has more valuable things to teach you than me?” 

“No, because I think you liked talking to him. Most people you don’t give the time a day. But I think you actually could _ tolerate  _ him” said Peter before turning around and walking the other way to the market. 

Tony watched him walk off before rolling his eyes and following the boy. 

xxx

A few hours later Stephen was toweling off from his bath. He had found the inn, and the owner, an older widow whose grandson he had once seen to, welcomed him in with open arms, offering up a spacious room and a fresh drawn bath. It was only for one night, but it would be enough for Stephen. 

Stephen had sat in the murky water of the wooden bathtub and had inspected his bruises and scrapes. His jailers had been careful not to cause any damage that could have been put his life in jeopardy. Stephen held his hands under the warm water, soothing the aching damaged muscles in his hands. He had been lucky that the jailers had not known about the constant pain in his hands. The last time he had been caught they had used that pain in their torture. Stephen had almost confessed. 

As he got dressed he thought about where he would go now. Another town, another cottage. More well meaning families that would aid him after he helped cure their children and their elderly. More families that would turn a blind eye when he was caught. 

Stephen shook his head, fending off negative thoughts. He had only been exposed twice and he would learn from his mistakes. There had to be a place out there for him, a place where he could live the life he wanted for himself. A place in the universe for Stephen Strange. 

He laced up his boots and walked towards the door. His host had promised him a free supper and he was going to take advantage of that. Thinking about dining alone in the busy tavern of the inn did cause his heart to feel a pang of loneliness though. For the first time in a long while, Stephen wished had company.

Like a certain blacksmith and his ward. Stephen begrudgingly admitted to him that he had enjoyed their company. 

But oh well, there was nothing to do be done. He would eat, drink and get some sleep and start a new life in the morning. 

xxx

Meanwhile, Tony was bartering with one of the town’s blacksmith’s to sell some of his tools. His inventions of course, were not for sale, those would stay with him. But in Peter’s haste to come and attempt a rescue, he had thrown in a pair of wrenches and some tongs, not sure if they were necessary to operate the gadgets. They were of good quality and the smith that Tony had found was keen to buy them. Peter was in the market, having set up a nice little place for himself to read letters and documents for a few coins. 

Tony couldn’t help but notice how busy the smith was, especially because the man was working so late. The sun was going down and Tony intended to go collect Peter to fetch them dinner soon, but Tony could see that the man’s work was far from done, with broken wagon parts and dented woodcutting tools piled up around him. As the man counted out the coins to purchase the tools, Tony asked about all the work. 

“Aye,” said the smith, a tall man with a thick ginger beard and a shiny bald head, “My main competitor came down with the bloody flux and died a few weeks back. Which was good for business, somewhat, but I have too many orders and I can’t handle them all by myself.”

If they had been farther away from his hometown, Tony might consider opening up shop, or at least asking this smith for employment for himself to make some money so he can get on his feet. But Tony couldn’t stay there for more than a day or two, too likely to be recognized. 

But a thought did come to mind, a thought that made Tony’s stomach twist with sadness and a wave of oncoming loneliness. Tony’s arrogance had gotten him where he was, and he was facing the consequences, but there was no reason someone innocent of any crimes should be affected too. Stephen’s words echoed in his mind, “I don’t want to drag anyone down with me.”

So Tony took a deep breath and asked, “Can you use an assistant? A young apprentice maybe?” 

xxx

Stephen had finished eating his bowl of stew and hunk of bread and was now sipping on an ale watching the other patrons stumble around and sing bawdy songs. Stephen felt safe and secure, tucked away in the back of the tavern at a small table. People were bustling about, friends telling stories over drinks, prostitutes trying to lure men upstairs. There was so much activity that he barely took note of a person approaching his table. 

When said person asked him if he could join him, Stephen’s head made a jerk to stare up at the man. The man wore a cloak with a hood up, having come in fresh from the night, but Stephen knew that voice. That voice had been his favorite thing to hear for years. Very refined, of noble birth, with an accent that hinted that England had not been his birthplace. He had loved listening to that voice talk about scholarly pursuits, recount tales from his childhood, and express amazement at the discovery of the mystic arts. He had experienced that voice, urged on by wine, tell him all the inappropriate things he would do to Stephen once they were alone. 

As the man pulled down his hood, Stephen came face to face with the man that had helped change his life. A man Stephen thought he would never see again. Karl Mordo smiled down at Stephen as he pulled out a chair to sit at. 

And Stephen, unknowing of the danger he was in, smiled back. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bloody flux is dysentery if you want to know.   
> And poor Tony, making those difficult choices on Peter's behalf.   
> Also I'm glad to part ways with the GotG (you might have noticed I didn't try and make their names fit because that would've been a pain) because writing Drax is HARD man.


	5. Chapter Five

Stephen felt like his face could crack in two as he smiled at the man who sat across from him. He reached out and grasped Karl’s hand in his. “I can barely believe you are sitting in front me, that you aren’t some type of dream.” 

Karl pat the top of Stephen’s scarred hand, “I’m real Stephen, I can assure you of that.”

“Karl, where have you been all this time? After...everything happened I went back to your rooms, I looked for you and I couldn’t find you. It’s like you vanished.” 

“I had a lot of soul searching to do after everything fell apart Stephen. But what happened to you?” asked Karl, leaning back in his chair in interest. 

“I wandered for a while, barely scraping by, until I came across a family who gotten into an accident on the road. The wheel of their wagon had broken and their teenage son’s leg had been caught underneath. I helped set it and to show their generosity they let me sleep in their barn until I could find stable housing.” 

“So you’ve given up the mystic arts then?” asked Mordo. 

Stephen gave the other man a sheepish smile, “Not exactly, it does come in handy when I am making healing potions though.” 

“So you haven’t run into any trouble with the law? You look a bit banged up,” said Mordo, concern coating his smooth voice. 

Stephen’s eyes lowered, “I’ve had some issues, yes. I’m actually in the market for a new home, I don’t suppose you could recommend some place I could go? As long as it’s on this island, I don’t fancy having to live among the French.” 

Mordo shifted uncomfortably, and he stuck a hand into his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and gingerly placing it on the table, “Stephen, there is something you need to see.”

Stephen didn’t hesitate to reach forward and pick up the paper, opening it with interest. But the paper suddenly glowed red and before Stephen could even flinch away, it had burned to ash in the palm of his hand. The only burn it left were harsh black lines that formed runes that stood out against the silvery scars on his hands. 

Stephen stared in shock at his palm, realizing that he had been tricked. He looked up at Mordo, tears gathering in his eyes. Stephen recognized the spell, he knew what Mordo had done to him. He had taken away his access to magical energy, rendering him powerless. “Karl, what is happening? Why are you really here?”

Mordo’s expression turned serious, all warmth disappearing. “I’m here in service to my King and country and to the Order of the Witch-Hunters. You will be coming with me Stephen Strange, so that you can face justice. I don’t want to take you in by force, but I will if I have to,” said Mordo in a cold voice.

“Even after everything we shared, Karl? You’d betray me like this?” asked Stephen, his voice wavering, distressed that Karl Mordo was breaking his heart once again. 

“Please Stephen, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

xxx

Tony led Peter back to the blacksmith that he had made a deal with, a deal that involved not only Tony selling him some instruments, but also making an agreement that the man would take on Peter as his apprentice. Now Tony just had to work up the courage to tell Peter about this agreement. 

Tony had told Peter that the blacksmith had paid him and was willing to let them sleep in his workshop for the night, even providing them a bowl of his wife’s stew. This wasn’t a lie, but Tony  _ hadn’t _ told Peter that he would be departing in the morning without his young apprentice. 

It wasn’t easy for Tony to agree to this, he had grown quite fond of the boy since Peter had come to him all those months before. He hadn’t realized how lonely he had been, living in the home where he had once been part of a family. Plus, it was reassuring that Peter could inherit the forge and the home one day. 

But now there was no more forge, and no more home. He was sure that the town would’ve seized them by now. Tony’s future was gone, but that didn’t mean that Peter’s fate had to be tied to his. Peter was young, talented, and smart, there was no reason he still couldn’t be a skilled blacksmith one day. He also deserved a roof over his head and regular meals, things Tony knew wouldn’t be able to provide him.

Knowing that the blacksmith would probably want to talk with Peter about his apprenticeship, Tony stopped Peter, setting down his bag of inventions at his feet, just outside the house, “Wait Peter, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Peter looked at him, bright-eyed, happy they were going to get a meal and a place to sleep, “Yes, Mr. Stark?”

Tony shuffled his feet, finding it hard to break the news to the boy, not knowing how he would take it, “You know, I’ve been grateful for your service, Peter. You’ve done a great job, especially hiding my secret.”

Peter beamed at receiving his mentor’s praise. “Thank you Mr. Stark! I’ve liked living with you and learning everything.”

Tony gave him a strained smile. “I have also enjoyed your presence in my life,” he said awkwardly. “And that’s why I had to do what I did.”

Peter’s smile fell, “What did you do?”

Tony sighed, “In the morning, I will be leaving, but you are going to stay here. You’re going to stay on and be an apprentice for Mr. Matthews.”

Tony let the information sink in as the teen stared at him in shock. Peter was slack-jawed staring at the older man in confusion, “So...you’re leaving me here?” 

“Well, I’m providing you with new work, since I can’t do it myself.”

“But you just said I was an asset to you, a big help. You said I was doing a great job” said Peter voice growing small. 

“You are!” said Tony, taking Peter by the shoulders, “I mean,  _ you were _ , and you will do great here. Where you can work, and have food and not be worried about getting executed for aiding and abetting a witch.”

“But I want to stay with you.”

Tony looked stricken, not expecting this kind of response from the kid. He had thought Peter might be scared of having a new master, or would be sad because he would miss Tony. He never thought the boy would want to stay with him. 

But Tony stood his ground, “Peter, I’ve talked to Mr. Matthews, he is level headed and kind, I promise you. He will treat you fairly, he will not be a cruel master.”

“I’m not worried about that!” said Peter, voice growing more strained as tears gathered in his eyes, “I want to stay with you. I don’t care if we don’t have anything to eat, I don’t care if we have to sleep in the forest, I want to stay with you!” 

“Peter, I’m sorry but--”

“I’ll be better! If I did something wrong, or I was annoying, I’ll be better! You won’t even know I’m there. I’ll pick mushrooms and learn to hunt to find us food, just don’t send me away!” The tears were freely streaming down Peter’s face now. His shouting was drawing the attention of others walking by the blacksmith. 

“Pete,” said Tony, trying to calm the boy. He was about to move and bring the boy into an embrace and tell him that this had to happen, that Tony would try and visit, but he didn’t get the chance. 

“Witch! Witchcraft!” yelled someone up the street and panic erupted in the area, people scrambling to get away and back to their homes. Tony sprung away from the teen as he looked toward the source of the commotion. Peter wiped the tears from his eyes as he stared at people running frantically down the street. 

“Oh shit!” said Tony slinging his bag up on his shoulder and running against the wave of people, Peter following behind him. 

“Mr. Stark, is it Mr. Strange?” yelled Peter, fighting his way through the people towards Tony. 

“Peter go back! Stay there!”

“No! I said I’m coming with you and I meant it!” Peter yelled back at Tony in defiance. 

Tony rolled his eyes back at the boy and continued on. 

xxx

Stephen breathed hard as he pushed himself up on his hands from the cobblestones in the middle of the abandoned street. He had been knocked down when he ran into a magical barrier that had formed itself into a dome around him the minute he was off his feet. Night was falling, so there hadn’t been many people around to witness the use of magic, but the ones that had been hadn’t wasted time raising the alarm. Now Stephen was alone as Mordo approached the magical enclosure. 

Stephen had given him a pretty good chase, managing to grab a bowl of hot soup from a passing waitress and tossing it in Mordo’s face before fleeing from the inn, turning over chairs and tables as he went. He thought maybe he could slip off in the shadows and escape the witch-hunter, but Mordo had been close behind him. Stephen had only managed to turn a corner before hitting the barrier his hunter had created. 

“Now, now, Stephen.” said Mordo, waving a hand to draw the soup from his body and collect it suspended in the air in front of him. Once he was immaculately clean and dry again, he let the soup drop on the ground with a loud splash. “No need to make a fuss.”

Stephen turned within his prison to glare up at Mordo, “So I suppose witchcraft is acceptable when people like you use it?”

“‘Fight fire with fire’ is the saying, no?” asked Mordo. 

“So you can use witchcraft to catch other witches? So what happens when all the witches are caught? You’ll what? Die?” 

“My work will never be done, Stephen. The appeal of the mystic arts is too strong. It’s like a plague that comes back again and again. I know that you know that,” said Mordo. 

“I only do because of you, or have you forgotten who introduced me to the mystic arts?” 

Mordo smiled, “Oh trust me, I’m working hard to rectify my sins.” 

The spell on Stephen’s palm ached, and he wanted nothing more than to pull out his sling ring and open up a portal under him to anywhere. He looked around at the cage surrounding him before meeting Mordo’s eyes again, “And I guess to do that you need to kill me.”

Mordo’s eyes widened, his sinister coldness shaken and his smug smile dropping, “What? No Stephen I’m not going--”

“Hello there!” 

Mordo spun around and was met with Tony Stark, standing about ten feet from them, his arms crossed. Peter came running up behind him, panting for breath. “What seems to be going on here?” called out Tony, walking closer to the scene before him.

“Tony get back! Take Peter and go! This doesn’t concern you!” yelled out Strange. 

“Oh,  _ Tony _ . Anthony Stark. You must be our other mark. The blacksmith. Hmm, correct me if I am wrong, but I don’t take you for a witch.” 

“Well frankly, I’m glad that someone doesn’t,” said Tony, “Might be fun doing all that magic, but I long for a simpler life.” 

Stephen ignored Tony’s snark, “Our? How many people are hunting me?” 

“Enough that any attempt at escape will prove futile, Stephen,” said Mordo. 

“I guess we will have to see about that,” said Tony, pulling out a knife from the sheath on his leg. 

“Well, Stephen,” said Mordo, looking back at his captive, “You made some friends? Some that are willing to threaten a renowned witch-hunter. That’s loyalty, or  _ extreme stupidity _ .”

“Actually, I only met the guy last night, I just don’t like your attitude,” said Tony, flinging the knife at Mordo, who easily deflected the knife with a magical mandala shield. 

“So not loyalty, much be just the stupidity then,” said Mordo, reaching behind him and pulling a staff from off his back. He held out the staff in front of him before bringing it down and slapping it on the ground in front of him, the staff becoming more flexible like a whip. The cobblestone street fractured and broke apart, the fracture racing toward Tony and Peter. Tony managed to grab Peter and jump out of the way, but not before throwing down a round object on the ground, which started to vibrate and emit smoke. 

“Well, looks like you aren’t without your tricks, blacksmith. Though you for sure aren’t a witch,” said Mordo before waving a hand and dispelling the smoke. But when it was cleared, Tony and Peter were nowhere in sight. 

“Hmm, I guess they weren’t your friends after all, seeing how they abandoned you so abruptly,” said Mordo turning back to Stephen. 

“Please don’t hurt them, just portal them away or something,” said Stephen looking around the abandoned street. 

Mordo cocked his head in confusion, “But they are gone--”

“Up here, rakefire!” shouted Tony, standing up on a rooftop of a shop along the street. “How about you let Strange go before I show you want else I have up my sleeve?”

“I have you in my sights, Anthony Stark, why should I fear you?” shouted Mordo up at the man. 

“Okay, you got me there. You don’t see Peter though.”

Suddenly there was the sound of a mechanical latch being thrown and and a claw-like device landed next to Tony’s feet. Mordo didn’t even have time to turn around before he was being knocked to the ground by Peter’s feet connecting to his back. Peter had a harness on around his chest that emitted a rope connected to the device by Tony’s feet. Peter was carried onto the roof in an instant, stumbling to get his footing. 

“I did it, Mr. Stark!” yelled Peter excitedly. 

“Good job, kid. But we aren’t done yet,” said Tony, jumping down to the ground before Mordo could get fully on his feet. He picked up a brick from the ruined ground and threw it at Mordo, the witch-hunter managing to deflect it with a shield. Then Tony scooped up his knife from the street and lunged forward at Mordo, but the other man pulsed out energy throwing Tony back onto the ground. 

“Mr. Stark!” yelled Peter in distress, scrambling down from the roof. 

“This nonsense ends now,” said Mordo, wiping the dirt from his black uniform, “You three are coming with me.”

“You are right about one thing,” said Tony, laying on his back on the ground, out of breath, “This nonsense is going end.”

Mordo’s eyes narrowed, growing suspicious. “ _ What did you do _ ?”

“Like you said, I have a lot tricks,” said Tony, lifting up an arm and letting his sleeve fall back, revealing an arm harness with a spring mechanism, loaded with darts of some kind. “Right up my sleeve.”

“I didn’t see you use that.”

“Yes, because you thought I was going to stab you, it’s called misdirection, I thought magicians knew about that,” said Tony, gathering himself to his feet. “Check behind your forearm.”

Mordo reached back and grabbed the dart that protruding there, threw it on the ground and then walked toward Tony, smiling menacingly. “No matter, you barely scartch--” His advance halted and he started to sway on his feet. “What...what have you done?!” demanded Mordo, his eyes starting to grow heavy. 

“Just a bit of my own concoction on the tip of the darts.”

“What was it? What’s happening?” said Mordo, as he fell to his knees. 

“That’s my little secret, one of many,” said Tony smugly, standing above the struggling Mordo. 

“Stark...I swear...I will…” choked out Mordo before he fell on the ground, completely unconscious. Peter came running up to Tony, hanging back a little cautiously. 

The minute Mordo was out, the magical prison around Strange fell and Stephen was stumbling to his feet running over to Tony and Mordo. He got to Mordo and knelt next to him, feeling for his pulse. “Will that poison kill him?” with concern in his voice that surprised Tony. 

“It wasn’t poison, just a powerful sleeping draught I mixed up, he should be out for a couple of hours. If you want him dead, I’ll leave that dirty work up to you. Seeing as you two seem to have history and all.”

Stephen looked at Tony horrified, “I don’t want Karl dead.” 

“Well we probably should stash him somewhere and then you can portal us away from here. Don’t want to be hanging around when he wakes up.”

Stephen hung his head as he stood up from his crouching position, “I have a problem, Stark. Karl has placed a spell on me, I cannot access any magical abilities.” Stephen held out his hand, showing off the dark lines on his hand. 

Tony considered the spell and then looked to Peter and then to back to Stephen. 

“Well,  _ shit _ .” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rakefire--- A chump who overstays their welcome and takes advantage of hospitality
> 
> It's been interesting to find old English insults for Tony to use.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen's backstory comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, so sorry for the delay, I really don't like to go more than two weeks not updating something, but I've been moving from my parents' house into an apartment and everyday I go to work and then I have to work on moving and I've just been exhausted. But I hope the wait was worth it.

They had to make quick work to hide Mordo’s unconscious body, without too much commotion going on. If they failed, people would start to come and investigate the scene. Plus, there was no telling when Mordo’s body would overcome the serum’s effects. So they made fast work putting him in a hay pile out behind a horse barn. Then they ran down some small alleyways, trying to put as much distance between themselves and Mordo as possible. 

“What are you going to do without your magic?” asked Peter, jogging some to keep up with the adults’ brisk pace. Stephen stopped to grab some scarves from an abandoned stall and wrapped one around his head before throwing one each at Tony and Peter. “I’ll just have to go to someone who can break the spell,” said Stephen. 

“And who’s that?” asked Tony, securing his scarf around his head. 

“I don’t know, but I think I know someone who does,” said Stephen.

By this time, some people were emerging from their houses, cautiously looking around the area. Night had fallen so many people had just decided to stay inside. But not even the fear of witchcraft would keep some deterred from a pint of ale or a hot tavern meal though. The trio ducked into an alley and waited for more people to appear so they wouldn’t look so suspicious. 

They huddled against the wall, watching people call to each other to make sure the coast was clear. They needed to get out of the town as fast as possible, that was for sure, but if someone noticed three people eager to flee into the night they would be under immediate suspicion. And who knows who had seen what had happened between them and Mordo. 

“You didn’t need to come help me,” whispered Stephen. 

“We couldn’t just leave you,” said Peter. 

“That’s right and I haven’t heard a thank you, unless I missed it somehow,” whispered back Tony. 

Stephen’s eyes dropped, “Thank you, so much. Now we could part ways again.” 

“And leave you magic-less with a witch-hunter on your tail?” asked Tony. 

“Well...yes. You are not obligated to help me anymore.”

Tony nodded his head in agreement, “That is true.”

“Mr. Stark!” cried Peter aghast that his mentor could be considering such a thing. 

Tony shot Peter a look, “You aren’t a part of this, kid, remember? I found you a new job.”

“You did?” asked Stephen, “That’s probably for the best.”

“No it’s not!” said Peter, shaking his head “I don’t want to leave, Mr. Stark. And I think we should stay with Mr. Strange and help him get his magic back.”

“Peter, I don’t want  to drag you and Tony in this further than you two already are,” said Stephen. 

“Well, I’m already involved, that witch-hunter guy knew about me and was probably hunting me also, so I’m not exactly in the clear,” said Tony. “But Peter, you don’t need to be in danger, I insist on you going back to that blacksmith.” 

“And I insist on staying with you,” said Peter, “You saw how I took that guy out! I’m helpful, and I can take care of himself.”

“The boy seems determined to stay with you, Stark,” said Stephen, “You must have made quite the impression upon him.”

“Yeah, now I’m stuck with a stubborn teenager,” said Tony with a sigh, “ _ Okay _ , but when they carry you off to jail with me, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“So I can stay?” said Peter, eyes shining with hope. 

“Yes,” said Tony in defeat. 

Peter bounced on his feet and sprang forward to hug Tony, but the blacksmith shrugged him off, “Hey now, don’t get so clingy.” 

“Sorry, I’m so happy,” said Peter backing away from Tony and composing himself. 

“Happy to still be homeless?” asked Stephen with amusement in his voice. 

Peter shrugged, “I just want to stick with Mr. Stark.”

After a little while, life had returned to the area. Doors to pubs were thrown open and drunken songs filtered out into the streets. The trio slipped out of the alley and ambled their way to the outskirts of town. They had to be careful not to use the main road, knowing that would be the first place for Mordo to check. Instead they stuck to the side streets that ran along the main road, and they were all relieved to see the boundary of the town. They looked around quickly to make sure they weren’t being followed and ran into the forest. 

They trekked through the forest, Peter picking up berries and mushrooms that he showed to Stephen for his approval along the way. “Those are fine, those aren’t deadly but they will make you suffer a pretty serious stomach ache, so you might want to toss them.” 

Finally Tony judged that they were far enough away from the town and the road was nearby but not close enough to prove a danger. Tony set down his supplies and they got to clearing a small area.  

They divided the berries that Peter had found among each other and then they settled down in the grass to get some sleep. The moon was high in the sky and its light could barely be seen through the thick branches overhead. They discussed what they would do in the morning, deciding they would rise at first light and then try to pay for a ride on a wagon heading in the direction of Stephen’s friend. 

“The town where he was last living shouldn’t be far,” said Stephen. 

After their plans were made, Peter snuggled down in the grass, his tunic folded under his head acting as a pillow and drifted off, his soft deep breaths filling the clearing. 

Stephen and Tony sat on an overturned log, watching the boy. Tony encouraged Stephen to go to sleep, saying he would be a lookout and then let wake up Stephen to switch with him, but Stephen shook his head. 

“I’m not tired, and I rested some at the inn, you should sleep and I’ll take the first watch,” said Stephen. 

Stephen’s tunic sleeve had ridden up, revealing the dark bruises still there. Tony’s eyes stared at them pointedly and Stephen tugged the sleeve down. “You’re injured and you need rest,” said Tony. 

“I don’t think I can,” said Stephen softly. 

“Then I’ll keep you company,” said Tony, lying back across the log, folding his hands behind his head, his legs straddling the fallen tree. Stephen rolled his eyes and let out a huff, realizing that the other man was just as stubborn as him. 

“So, I know it’s none of my business, but it looked like to me that you knew that witch-hunter guy,” said Tony. 

Stephen sighed, “Yes, I am acquainted with Karl Mordo. When I first met him he was a Baron, I’m not sure if that is still true, what with his current occupation.” 

“Where did you meet?” 

“We were friends at school.”

“You went to school with a Baron?” asked an amused Tony. 

“It was Oxford,” said Stephen curtly. 

“Ah.”

“Yes I wasn’t born into money, but I showed promise as an apprentice to an apothecary and a nobleman in my hometown sponsored. I was a clever youth whose parents had passed away when I was still a teen, it makes a good story. And so I got to study medicine at Oxford. I met Karl my second year there. He was intelligent, and we could have intellectual debates for hours over drinks. The librarians got sick of us and our inquiries. We were both so young and full of a thirst for knowledge,” said Stephen wistfully. 

“Where did witchcraft come into play?” 

“It was Karl who started to explore it first. I think he got tired of studying ‘acceptable science’ and he started to branch out. He would sneak off without me and I would visit him at his rooms like normal but he was increasingly absent. And Karl may be brilliant but he’s not that talented of a liar. I assumed that he had taken a lover and he didn’t want me to know about them.” Stephen’s voice sounded restrained recounting this part, tight with past hurt. 

“How did you get involved?” asked Tony, seeing the sorcerer’s discomfort and urging him on. 

“This happened,” said Stephen, holding up his scarred hands in front of him. “I was riding back to school from a holiday with friends when my horse was spooked and I was knocked to the ground. The bulk of my body was fine, but my hands got trampled in the incident.” Tony winced in sympathy. 

“The accident left me with chronic pain and a tremor. My dream of being a doctor and being able to perform delicate procedures was over. I remember waking up and seeing my hands bloodied and deformed and weeping but Karl was there, and he held me, comforted me and soothed me. Despite his presence though, I fell into a deep sadness. But he drew me out of it when he told me that there might be another way to save my hands.” 

“Ah, witchcraft?”

“Yes, he told me to meet him at a particular street corner in Oxford late at night and then he lead me to this one pub. It appeared closed but with a certain knock, the door was opened and we were permitted to enter by a servant in what appeared to be monk’s robes. From there we were led to the cellar and it was there I met the people that Mordo had been studying witchcraft under. They were a group of witches led by a woman called The Ancient One.”

Tony let out a snort and a short laugh. Stephen gave him a sidelong glance. “I had the same reaction. Though a little horrified my friend had gotten involved in the mystic arts. But Mordo showed me the things he had learned to do and while I remained skeptical, his passion for harnessing that energy encouraged me to be open-minded. And through his urging I began to hope that my academic and medical career wasn’t over. And yes, she had a ridiculous title, but the Ancient One was a very convincing and charming woman. She made everything sound so plausible. And so, I began to attend these meetings with Mordo.” 

Stephen smiled sadly, “That was the happiest time of my life. I thought I had been happy being Karl’s friend and fellow scholar but nothing was like learning the mystic arts together. It gave my life an incredible purpose and sharing this secret life with Karl was  _ invigorating _ . Our friendship deepened.” Stephen couldn’t see Tony’s face because of his position on the log, but if he had he would’ve seen Tony quirk an eyebrow at that statement, wondering if his words had a hidden meaning. 

“But of course, it wasn’t meant to last. In our group was a man that went by Kaecilius, a carpenter who was incredibly talented at the mystic arts and who claimed to be studying them out of curiosity. But then one night he struck out against the Ancient One, claiming that her title wasn’t just something she gave herself to be appear mysterious. That she was really was ancient, that she had been a Celtic druid during the time of the Roman occupation and that she had been hiding the true true magic from us. Karl and I laughed it off, but then the woman didn’t refute his claims, and her cool exterior had been shaken at last. She looked ashamed. Kaecilius revealed that he turned to the mystic arts not out of curiosity, but to bring back his wife and daughter, who had perished in a fire years before. He yelled that our teacher must have some method of distorting time, and she was keeping those abilities to herself and denying us. Telling us it was forbidden. He demanded her gave up whatever spell she was using to bend time to her will and she refused. A fight broke out. The Ancient One was a powerful sorceress, and she could’ve easily overpowered Kaecilius, but he had poisoned a number of magic users against her already.”

Stephen wrung his hands in his lap, “I tried to aid her, but Kaecilius struck a deadly blow, but not before she managed to fatally wound him too. She died in my arms.”

Tony sat up, and reached over, giving Stephen’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, it was a long time ago. And I think she knew that her time was running out and I can’t pass judgement on whether what she did was wrong.”

“So,” said Tony, fidgeting a little, “What happened to Mordo?”

“I looked around for Karl in the wreckage of our meeting place, but he was nowhere to be found. I went to the tavern where he kept rooms, but he wasn’t there and certain items were missing that made me believe he had run off.” 

“That must have been awful.”

Stephen’s lips turned to a grim frown, “I’d never felt so alone in that moment, sitting on his bed. I felt so lost. I ended up becoming effectively homeless, for the first time at least.” 

Tony slapped his knees, “Well you aren’t alone now. Me and Peter aren’t going to run off and then turn up years later, hunting you.” 

“Thank you, Stark,” said Stephen softly. “Though I’m still not sure what you two are doing here.”

Tony shrugged, “Safety in numbers, I guess. And also, I know how you can thank me.” Tony turned to Stephen with a wide, mischievous grin on his face.

Stephen backed away, looking skeptical, “What?”

Tony nodded down at the grassy patch by Peter, “Lay down and get some sleep.”

Stephen sighed, but he had a barely-there smile on his face. “Okay,” he whispered in defeat as he got up and then laid down next to the boy. 

He laid on his arm at first, but he winced when he cheek put pressure on a bruise there. Tony quickly stripped out of his outer tunic and threw it at Stephen, “Here use this. Sorry if it smells bad.”

Stephen balled up the clothing and put it under his head. “It smells like a forge, like fire and iron. I like it,” he whispered before closing his eyes. “Wake me up to switch places, okay?” he said before fully relaxing.

“Okay,” said Stark, watching the other man’s breathing even out, his distinctly shaped lips slightly open. The sparse moonlight played off the curves of Strange’s face and his eyelashes cast shadows onto his cheeks. Tony frowned at the cut on the corner of the sleeping man’s lip. 

About an hour later, Tony was running math problems in his head, trying to keep himself awake and focused. But he was snapped to attention when he heard a low whine come from Stephen. The sorcerer started to fidget and whimper in his sleep, obviously in the midst of an unpleasant dream. 

Tony got down on his knees and crawled over to Strange. He ran a hand down Stephen’s arm, shushing him and trying to comfort him out of his nightmare. He didn’t want to wake him up fully, knowing he would insist upon starting his shift early. It seemed to work and Stephen calmed, but not before a few tears escaped. Tony wiped them away as gently as he could with a back of a finger, before returning to the log. 

Tony went back to his math problems and tried not too hard to think of all the cautionary tales he had been raised on about those who might find their own gender appealing. Because laid out in the moonlight, as vulnerable as he could be, Stephen Strange may just be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephen visits an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello hello! I had a few people who were concerned that I had abandoned this fic but I can assure you that I have not. I've never abandoned a fic and I mean to see this through. It's just I was busy working on my submission for the IronStrange Big Bang and it turned into this like 13k monster of a fic. So, you can have that look forward to I suppose ha.

Peter and Tony awoke to find Stephen cooking some mushrooms above a low fire on cookware that had been constructed from Tony’s supplies. Stephen then placed the cooked mushrooms on some large flat leaves and passed them around.

“How was your watch?” asked Tony, gobbling up his mushrooms. He had switched with Stephen halfway through the night.

“It was fine, got spooked by a rabbit at one point, but that was all,” said Stephen.

“You should’ve caught the rabbit with your magic,” said Peter, frowning at the pile of slimy mushrooms. The boy quickly paled, “Uh, sorry, I forgot.” Stephen smiled at him good-naturally with a shrug.

“That’s all a weird way of saying, ‘Gee Stephen, thank you for the breakfast!’”, said Tony, pushing Peter’s shoulder with his.

Peter blushed, realizing just how rude he was being, “Thank you for the breakfast, Stephen.”

A little later, they gathered their things and then stopped by a nearby stream. They quenched their thirst and cleaned themselves as well as they could, and then they headed for the road.

They made their way back to the thoroughfare and scoped out the wagons leaving town, heading in the direction of the town where Stephen’s friend lived. They sent out Peter to jog up alongside some of them and ask where they are going and if some travelers could ride with them for a few coins. Most of the wagon drivers were wary of getting robbed and told Peter to piss off, but one gruff older man responded with a quick head nod to the back, confirming he could take them. Peter whistled towards the bushes and Stephen and Tony came running out, jumping onto the wagon and settling into the bales of hay and hiding themselves from sight.

Peter came to sit beside Tony, “This is all getting rather exciting, isn’t it? Almost like an adventure.”

“Exciting? More like stressful,” said Tony.

Stephen sat down across from them, nestled in between to bales, “Tony, you should get some sleep while we travel. I know you let me sleep longer than you last night.”

“You needed it.”

“Well, so do you.”

Tony frowned and wiggled back into the hay, making himself comfortable, “Are you offended by the bags under my eyes? I wasn’t the one beaten.”

“We can’t risk making mistakes due to exhaustion, and I’m used to taking care of myself,” said Stephen sharply.

“Well maybe you should let someone help you,” said Tony.

They were interrupted by a soft snore coming from Peter, who had already dozed off in the hay, his face hidden from view. Both men laughed and Tony rolled his eyes, “He was the only one to get a full night of sleep.”

“That’s teenagers for you,” said Stephen.

Tony stuck a piece of hay between his teeth and lifted his hands behind his head, “So who’s this friend we are going to see? How can he help us?”

“He was a close acquaintance to the Ancient One, a sorcerer, but also a kind of record keeper and researcher. You can find a great amount of writing on the mystic arts, if you know where to look and what to read for.”

“Alright, so he escaped that night?”

“He wasn’t there,” said Stephen, “He had a lead of a book in a library in some far flung monastery. I didn’t see him for weeks after the event. I needed to give him something.”

Tony raised his eyebrows, “Oh yeah?”

Stephen hesitated, “When the Ancient One died, she passed it to me. It’s a sort of talisman, an instrument. Whoever can control it, could wield great power.”

“Ah, and is this instrument relevant to our journey?”

“I am going to ask Wong for it, I feel like the Ancient One wanted me to have it. I felt wrong handing it over to him, and I feel like she knew I would need it for this occasion,” said Stephen, his voice not altogether sure.

“Wong? This friend of yours is from the Far East?”

Stephen shot him a look, “Yes, and do you have a problem with that?”

Tony held up his hands, “No, of course not. Just interesting is all. So what does this thing do? How can it help us?”

“I will show you once it is in my possession once again. The Ancient One had shown me a few basic spells to use with it, days before she died. Another tip off that she wanted me to have it.”

Tony took the straw from his mouth, turning it in his fingers, “And how can you be sure that this device, or whatever it is, won’t just make us an even bigger target for our hunters?”

Stephen smiled softly, “I can’t. But it will give us an advantage, Stark. I promise.”

After that they lapsed into quiet and they both took turns dozing off in the hay. At one point they were both asleep and when Stephen woke up and his eyes adjusted to the late afternoon light, he was horrified to find that Peter was gone.

Stephen crawled over to his companion and cried “Tony!”, shaking him awake. Tony didn’t even need to know what was the matter because he jolted when he saw the empty space beside him, Peter’s body having left an indentation in the straw.

But a loud laugh that sounded like it could be from the boy drew their attention and Tony and Stephen climbed to the front of the wagon. There they found Peter talking amicably to the wagon driver, and the old, burly man had a smile on his face.

“Sorry if the kid’s bothering you,” said Tony.

“No,” said the man in the rough voice, “Your son is a good boy, reminds me of my son. I have not seen him in many years. I don’t mind the company.”

“He’s not my--”

“He is a good boy, isn’t he? Very smart, and very loyal,” said Stephen, ruffling Peter’s hair. Stephen then smiled at Tony, urging him to let the moment stand.

They arrived in town as the sun was setting, and Tony gave the man a few coins for the ride but the man gave one back. “It’s okay, your son lightened my spirit, so I give you discount.” Peter hugged the man before running off after Stephen and Tony.

Stephen led them through the winding streets of the new town, which was luckily significantly smaller than the one they had just been in. Stephen stopped to ask a few vague questions to passerbys and then continued on, finally stopping at a storefront close to the edge of town. It was a candle shop, and it was closed for the day, but Stephen went around to the back door, Tony and Peter on his heels, and knocked rapidly on the door.

An old man opened the door with a cantankerous look, “Yes? What do you want? Can’t you see we are closed for the day?”

“I can see that, but I’m not here for a candle, I need to see Wong.”

The old man eyed the three of them suspiciously, “You know him?”

Stephen held up his hands, palms facing him, “Go and tell him that a man with scarred hands is here. He’ll know who I am.”

The old man grumbled but did as he was told and when he came back, he was followed by an Asian man in a large tunic with a shaved head. “Strange? It is you, what are you doing here? Come in.” He ushered in the three travelers in and shut the door behind them.

“Thomas, it’s alright, you can go back to your supper,” Wong said to the old man, who grumbled and exited to another room.

“Come,” said Wong, “Follow me, I suspect what you have to say needs to be said in private.” They followed Wong up a ladder and into an attic room cluttered with books and charts. Stephen had to bend to avoid hitting his head on the low beams.

“So what’s with the candle shop?” asked Tony, surveying the room.

“Thomas lets me stay here for free because I make a few slight _alterations_ to his candles. Subtle alterations, the townspeople just know what his candles burn brighter and longer than anyone’s,” said Wong. Then he narrowed his eyes at the blacksmith, “Who are you again?”

“He’s my friend, he was also accused of witchcraft, though he’s just a particularly clever and stubborn blacksmith,” said Stephen.

“Tony Stark,” said Tony, reaching out a hand to shake Wong’s. Wong shook it slowly, mulling over the information. “And this is my apprentice, Peter,” said Tony. Peter waved and smiled, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wong.”

Wong eyed the two but then turned back to Stephen, “You got caught?”

“Twice,” said Stephen sheepishly.

“Stephen,” Wong said in admonishment. “Is that how you got that?” he asked nodding to the bruise on Stephen’s cheek. Stephen bit his lower lip, looking for all the world like a guilty child being scolded by a parent, and nodded.

Wong sighed, “You should’ve stayed with me.”

“There is no safety in numbers when it comes to our kind, Wong. Just bigger pyres,” said Stephen.

“Stephen helped me escape,” interjected Tony, not liking how serious the conversation was getting, “I was falsely accused of witchcraft by another blacksmith because I am just too good at my job.”

“I see, and you stayed with Stephen, because…”

“Universe threw us back together, thought it’d stick around.”

“Wong,” said Stephen, “He helped me defeat Mordo. He’s a witch-hunter now.”

“What?” said Wong, eyes furrowing in confusion, “Karl? A witch-hunter? Are you sure?”

“It could be no other, Tony used his amazing inventions to save me.” Tony’s chest puffed up in pride at hearing the compliment. “Oh and Peter helped too,” said Stephen, seeing the teenager’s big expectant eyes. Peter beamed also, “It was no trouble.”

Stephen held up his hand for Wong to see, “And he left this seeling spell on me, I have no access to magical energy with it seared on my skin.” Wong took Stephen’s hand in his and looked over the insignia.

“This magic is old, and forbidden,” said Wong, releasing Stephen’s hand from his grasp. “So Karl is not only hunting us now, he is doing so using magic that the Ancient One refused to teach.”

“He’d say the ends justify the means, which is ironic considering that was the same logic she used,” said Stephen miserably.

“Can you break the spell?” asked Peter.

Wong shook his head, “Maybe if I had months to research, but like I said this was the kind of magic we never touched.”

“So there’s nothing we can do?” asked Tony, looking at Stephen in concern.

“Well you could convince Mordo to remove the spell or...there is _someone else_ you could reach out to,” said Wong.

“Who?” said Stephen, but then his eyes widened in realization, “Wait, no! Not him!”

“He does dabble in the forbidden arts, Strange. He could be your only hope,” said Wong.

“He uses the mystic arts for his own trickery! He cheats people out of money!” cried Stephen.

“Good! You can pay him to remove the spell. Look Stephen you can either stand by your morals or you can do business with some unsavory characters. Take your pick, because if you stick to your morals, then say goodbye to your magic.”

Stephen admitted defeat, clenching his jaw and nodding his head. “Also, I need the Eye back,” said Stephen.

Wong tilted his head in surprise, “The Eye? Do you think that’s a good idea. You are already being targeted and pursued.”

“What would witch-hunters want with the Eye? And anyway, if I am captured I will take measures so it won’t fall into their hands.” Wong still looked unsure and Stephen put his hand on his shoulder, “Look I think the Ancient One knew I would need it. I just have this feeling okay?”

Wong rolled his eyes, “You and your feelings. Okay Stephen.” Wong walked over to a loose floorboard, pulling it up and slipping a hand inside. Out of the hole he brought a small chest. He emptied the contents on the floor and then pushed on the bottom panel. The piece of wood sprung out of place and from under it Wong pulled out a necklace baring a pendant that looked like a large sleeping eye. He passed the necklace to Stephen, who swiftly put it around his neck and under his clothes.

“What does it do?” asked Peter in awe.

“I am sure you will get to see. But to put it simply, it manipulates time,” said Stephen.

Tony let out a low whistle, “No wonder you had it so well hidden,” said Tony.

“Indeed,” said Wong, “Too much power to fall into the wrong hands.” He shot Stephen a look, “I trust you to keep it safe.”

“I promise not to disappoint you,” said Stephen with a friendly bow.

“Of course to even use it, you will need to get that taken care of,” said Wong nodding to the marking on Stephen’s hand.

“Yes, yes, like I could’ve forgotten,” said Stephen and then his stomach let out a low grumble and he pulled an embarrassed face.

Wong smirked, “Let me go get you some food, Thomas’ wife always makes more than enough. I’ll bring it up here and you can bed down up here for the night. I will portal you to where you need to go in the morning.”

“Thank you, Wong,” said Stephen as grabbed his friend’s arm and Tony and Peter echoed his gratitude.

Wong patted Stephen’s hand, “It’s fine, we have to watch out for each other. The whole world seems to be our enemy.” He then moved to climb down the ladder.

They ate a supper of soup and husks of bread and then slept strewn about the attic. Peter made a nest of blankets and then fell asleep curled up in a ball. Tony grumbled about having to sleep on the hard floor, but he was getting used to sleeping in awkward places so he too dropped off quickly. Stephen was the only one that took some time falling asleep, but his friends’ calm breaths and light snores willed him to sleep.

In the morning they rose and Wong fetched a large bowl of porridge that they passed around to one another and shared. He also gave them some cured meats and a few apples to take with them. Stephen hugged him in gratitude.

Wong told them how to find the sorcerer they were looking for, and then he wished them luck. “I hope you can slip your pursuers, Stephen. But the time may come when you will have to face them head on.”

Stephen nodded solemnly and Wong opened a portal, close to where the magic-user they would need to find was. Stephen shook his friend’s friend once more and then led his party into the portal, which shut behind them.

“So,” said Tony, looking around the clearing, “Who is this guy we are looking for?”

Stephen sighed and looked up to the sky, realizing the obstacle they would now have to face. “His name is Loki, he’s a wretch. Someone Mordo and his associates should actually be hunting.” He held up his hand, turning it over in the sunlight, “And unfortunately for me, he’s my only hope.”

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio come to Loki for aid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, sorry for the delay again. I had been writing a lot and I kinda got burnt out on writing, plus I wanted to stop and get some books read. I'll try my best to get the next chapter out quicker.
> 
> WARNING: a bit of a unwanted sexual attention in this chapter, but it's pretty brief.

The trio trekked through the woods, and Tony didn’t ask how Stephen just happened to know where to go. They didn’t seem to be following any sort of path, but Stephen’s strides were confident and Peter and Tony dutifully followed.

They climbed up a rise in the forest, Peter almost falling when his foot caught on a rock formation, and when they reached the top they found a cottage sitting in front of them. It was a simple home, and smoke spiraled out of the chimney. There was a number of chickens milling around the clearing in front of it and a small pen attached that contained two goats.

“Ah, this an isolated establishment,” marveled Tony.

“When you are a sorcerer, that is for the best.” said Stephen approaching the door. He pounded on the door three times and waited. After a moment, an old and crackly voice called out, “Yes? What is it?”. The door creaked open and revealed an old and withered woman, standing at about half of Stephen’s height. She wore long skirts and her head was wrapped in a scarf. Her face, a map of deep wrinkles, smiled up at Stephen with sparse teeth.

“Oh hello, young man. What brings you to my door? Are you and your companions lost in the forest?” asked the woman.

“Loki. Don’t bother with the act. It’s Stephen Strange, I know you know my name,” said Stephen.

The woman’s smile dropped and she narrowed her eyes at the man above her. “Do I?” she asked, but this time her voice had changed to sound much younger, and much more male. Peter stepped back, alarmed at the change.

“You do look familiar, I suppose,” said the woman as her visage shimmered and morphed into that of a young man. He now stood several inches taller than Stephen, and he wore a dark green tunic that almost reached the ground, belted in the middle. He had unwashed jet black hair that he swept back with a hand as he took in Stephen and leaned against the doorway. “Did we face off in some sort of...conflict?” asked Loki.

Stephen glared at the man in front of him, “You tried to steal a book from my order in Oxford.”

“Oh yes,” said Loki, clapping his hands, “I remember. You and that handsome dark-skinned man came in between me and the object of my desires. You look worse for wear, made new friends I see.” Loki shot an unimpressed look at Peter and Tony’s direction.

“Loki, I’m going to keep this brief,” said Stephen, struggling to get the words out, “I need your help.”

Loki’s green eyes widened in surprise and then his mouth spread into a smile, “What? Really? And none of your other sorcerers could come to your aid?”

“I have less magical acquaintances these days, especially ones with your talents,” said Stephen.

“Well isn’t this fun,” said Loki, cruel smirk still firmly in place, “Your kind with all your rules and decorum, has failed you. And you come crawling to Loki, trickster and thief and wraith. What is it you need help with anyway?”

Tony was uncomfortable, standing behind Stephen at the edge of the yard, and he called out to the sorcerer, “Stephen I don’t like this guy.”

“Neither do I,” Stephen called back, not turning to look in Tony’s direction, “But it’s the only way.” Stephen held up his hand, and unwrapped some bandages he had used to cover the marking. Loki’s quirked an eyebrow as he took in what he saw there.

“Ah, I see, Strange. You are in a bind aren’t you? Your magic is literally bound,” said Loki. “Who put that on you?”

“It matters not.”

Loki sighed, and folded his arms, “And if I remove it, what shall I receive in compensation? You and your traveling party don’t appear to have a lot of wealth. And even if you did, it wouldn’t matter. I don’t exactly have any need for gold.”

“Name your price,” said Stephen.

Loki scoffed at the man, “I don’t know what you have to offer, Strange.”

Stephen reached into his shirt and pulled out the Eye pendant and Loki stilled when he saw it. “I know how to use this, it can roll back the effects of time. Return my magic to me and I will use it in whatever manner you demand of me.”

“Stephen!” snapped Tony, thinking the offer was too much. Stephen simply shot him a look and he quieted.

Loki stepped forward, bringing a finger forward to touch the Eye tentatively. “The Eye of Agamotto, now there’s power.” said Loki awe.

Before Stephen could ask him if they had a deal, a voice called out, “Hello! Loki do we have guests?”

Everyone spun around to take in as a large man, two rabbits slung over his shoulders, came walking into the clearing. He was handsome and taller than Loki, and had short blonde hair. He wore weathered clothing and nice quality boots, and was basically the picture of perfection except for the leather eye patch he wore on his face. Said face was absorbed in a genuine smile as he took in the three strangers. “Are you lost?” asked the man.

Loki rolled his eyes, “Thor, you’re home early, I thought you’d be out hunting a while longer.”

The man, Thor, held up the rabbits, tied together with a rope, “I checked the traps and today was our lucky day, I figured it was enough for dinner.”

Thor approached Peter and held out a hand to shake, which Peter did, his eyes running up and down the blonde man in absolute wonder. The man then went and shook Tony’s hand, with Tony eyeing him suspiciously.

“Hello, I’m Thor, and I suppose you have met Loki, my illustrious brother,” said Thor. “And your names are?”

“Ah, I’m Anthony Stark, this young man is Peter Parker, my assistant, and that’s Stephen Strange,” said Tony.

“They have come to see me, brother,” said Loki.

Thor tensed up, smile falling from his face, “And what business do you have with my brother?”

Stephen turned towards Thor, “You do know your brother is a sorcerer right?” Thor frowned, but nodded curtly. “Well I need his help,” said Stephen.

Thor relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief, his smile returning “Ah so you come in friendship? Then you must stay for dinner! Loki will help you and you will provide us with some much needed companionship!”

“Thor!” protested Loki as Thor came up to the door of the cabin.

“Loki, we haven’t seen other humans in months! Let’s be hospitable for once, we have plenty for a hearty rabbit stew and they all can bed down for the night.” Thor entered the cabin, going off to skin and prepare the rabbits.

Loki growled at his brother and turned back to Stephen. “Looks like I am meant to help you.”

“Do you wish for me to use the Eye?” asked Stephen.

Loki’s eyes dropped, “There is _one thing_ , one thing I would like reversed. But we will speak after dinner. Can your boy go and collect some mushrooms?”

“He’s not my b--”

“Sure!” called out Peter as he sprinted off into the woods, immediately on the hunt.

“Avoid any with gills, if we get sick, I’m going to ring your ears!” called out Tony, and Peter called back that Tony needn’t worry.

Loki showed Tony and Stephen inside and had them sit at a table. The cabin was small, but cozy, with a fireplace in which a pot could be hung to cook some stew. There was a table next to it where food could be prepared. A ladder lead to a loft area where there must be a sleeping area.

Tony and Stephen listened to the brothers’ banter as Loki scolded Thor about getting dirt on their floor and Thor rebuffed him while he skinned the rabbits on the other end of the tables from their guests. Loki put down two mugs of tea in front of Stephen and Tony. It would’ve been a kind gesture if he had been more gentle and the tea sloshed over the side onto the table.

Tony eyed the tea, but took a drink once he saw Stephen do so. And turned his attention to Thor, “So what do you guys do out here?”

Loki kept himself busy with chopping vegetables by the fire while Thor explained, “We _live_ mostly. Loki tends the house and the small garden out back and I go and forage and hunt.”

“So have you always been woods people?” asked Tony.

Thor opened his mouth to explain but Loki spoke up, not stopping his task, “No, this has been a recent development, we actually grew up on a grand estate.”

Thor looked at him in disbelief, shocked that his brother would divulge such personal information so easily. Loki continued, “We were driven out, because our home, Asgard, came under attack.”

“Who attacked you?” asked Tony.

“Loki has many enemies,” said Stephen. Loki stood up and turned to the guests, smiling, “Yes, I have used magic for personal gain in the past, but this wasn’t because of that, this was because I had used magic at all.”

Stephen put his cup down, his eyes wide, “Witch-hunters.”

“Yes, they came to apprehend me, and this fool here,” said Loki as he gestured to Thor, “Fought against them.”

Thor shrugged, “Just did what any brother would do.”

“What did the hunters look like?” asked Stephen.

“Their leader is a foul, repugnant beast of a man named Ebonious Maw. He’s older, with long gray hair and a wrinkled face and beady eyes. He’s their General, and though he denounces the use of magic, he uses it too.”

“We believe that he was contacted by our estranged half-sister, Hela. She was given authority over Asgard in the wake of our disappearance,” said Thor in a bitter tone.

Loki scoffed, and addressed Tony and Stephen, “This brute thinks he would have overcome the hunters’ attacks even though he already had lost an eye. He still holds a grudge against me for facilitating our escape, thinking he could have won.”

“Well we will never know, eh?” said Thor.

“And now we live like hermits, and Thor has been completely disinherited, all because he couldn’t let me face the consequences of my actions,” said Loki.

“I would rather live in a cave with you alive and well, then any grand palace in a world where you have been burnt at the stake,” said Thor.

Peter came in shortly, with his arms full of mushrooms. Thor pat him on the back and told Peter how impressive his haul was and Peter beamed up at the taller man. Dinner was prepared shortly, and the group gathered around the table, with steaming bowls of stew laid out in front of them. Thor entertained Peter with tales of his past deeds as a Lord’s son, and Stephen and Tony talked quietly.

“We’ve had our luck with dinners lately, huh?” asked Tony, nudging Stephen’s shoulder.

“Yes, but at least we have an expert mushroom hunter in our travelling party if we have to rough it,” said Stephen.

Loki watched them shrewdly as he sipped on his stew.

After dinner, Loki made Stephen come and sit by the fire to inspect the spell upon his hand. “Before I remove it, Strange. I would have you tell me who placed it on you.”

Stephen was reluctant but answered, “You aren’t the only one who had a bad run in with witch-hunters.”

“Ah, so you are familiar with Maw?”

“No, one of his _associates,_ ” Stephen wasn’t all too keen to tell Loki what had become of his “handsome dark-skinned friend.”

But Loki didn’t pry though and he held Stephen hand in his in the firelight, turning it to better see the symbol. He then stood up and opened a large trunk by the window, opening it and pulling out a wooden box. From the box he produced a brush and a well of ink. He came back to Stephen and set the well on the hearth, dipping the brush into it.

He drew a symbol on Stephen’s hand and then said a few quick words. Nothing happened and Stephen started to fidget as Loki stared down at his handiwork. Stephen opened his mouth to ask what was supposed to happen when the burning began.

It was like his hand had been thrust into the fire he was sitting next to and he started to struggle in the other witch’s grasp. He was gasping and letting out tormented cries and Tony rushed forward, distressed. Loki halted him with a raised hand and a sharp, “Wait!”

The original symbol started to glow red and Stephen was by this point full on screaming. Peter was against the wall, terrified with concern for Stephen and Thor watched his brother grimly. Then the screaming stopped and the glowing vanished. The removal spell had left raised, red welts where the spell Mordo had placed on him had once been.

Everyone seemed to sag in relief but when Loki released Stephen’s hand, and the witch started to slump out of his chair. Tony was quick though and caught him before he could make contact with the floor. He held Stephen’s torso in his lap and he smoothed back Stephen’s hair off of his sweaty forehead. “You okay?” asked the blacksmith softly, “You’re not going to have a seizure on us, are you?”

“I’m okay,” said Stephen weakly, “No seizure.”

Loki stood up and ladled some water out a bucket into a cup and then passed it to Tony. Tony then had Stephen sit up so he could drink from it.

“Your magic will be weak until those marks heal,” said Loki.

“Strong enough to pay your price though,” said Stephen.

“Yes we will discuss that later, it should not drain you too much. It’s a simple task,” said Loki.

The rest of the night passed with Thor, Peter and Tony playing some sort of dice game as Loki read and Stephen rested on a pallet by the fire. At one point Tony had to step out of the cabin to relieve himself.

His business taken care of, he turned back to the cabin and almost screamed, taken by surprise to see Loki standing there.

“Uh, hello?” asked Tony.

“Hello Anthony, I wanted to speak to you alone,” said Loki.

“Okay...sure?”

“You see, Anthony. It can be a little lonely out here with just my brother for company.”

“Yes, I suppose it can,” said Tony awkwardly.

“And you Anthony, are not normally what I look for in a partner, but you are handsome enough, though a bit small.”

Tony blushed and was taken aback, “Are you _propositioning_ me?”

“To put it bluntly, yes. I feel like we could be _friends._ And friends help each other,” said Loki in his smooth manner.

“Sorry, Loki. You’re not bad-looking, though a bit _greasy_ , but you aren’t my type.”

“Oh but I can be anyone’s type,” as Loki said this a shimmering green light ran over his body. Now in front of Tony was a female Loki look alike, the same green eyes and high cheekbones. His hair now cascaded down his back, and his tunic was split down the front showing ample cleavage created by two large breasts on his chest.

Tony didn’t seem any more eager and Loki smiled, “Oh no, that’s not your type at all is it? How about this?” The light happened again and Loki was once against male. But this time green eyes become greyish blue, black hair become brown with white streaks and thin lips now curved in a distinctive Cupid’s bow. A clone of Stephen Strange stood before Tony.

Tony backed away, back towards the trees, shaking his head, “No, I like Stephen as a friend.”

“I’m not an idiot, Stark. I can see the way you look at him,” said Loki in Stephen’s deep voice. “Now we can both get what we want.” Loki stalked forward.

“No,” said Tony as his back hit against a tree.

“Oh Stark, come on. Just lean back and enjoy the view, as Stephen Strange sucks your cock,” said Loki as he knelt down in front of Tony and reached for the ties of Tony’s trousers.

Tony instinctively shoved Loki back before the witch could touch him and the glamour fell as Loki landed on his backside. Loki looked disappointed at Tony, but he stood up, brushing off his tunic, “Well, I thought it was worth a try. I haven’t lain with anyone in ages. I suppose we both will continue to be frustrated.”

Loki turned back towards the cabin but Tony called out, “This wasn’t part of the payment for helping Stephen was it?”

“Oh no, I’ll wake up Stephen in the night and have him use the Eye. Don’t worry about your beloved, Stark, a deal is a deal,” Loki called back as he wrenched the door back open.

Tony followed slowly, shaken that he had been that obvious with his feelings.

 xxx

In the morning, Tony woke up on a pallet next to Stephen’s in front of the merely smoldering fire. Stephen slept peacefully, on his side facing Tony, his breaths coming out softly. Tony reached out and moved some hair out of his face, running his thumb on Stephen’s sharp cheekbone.

He thought about Loki’s offer and knew that there could be substitute for the real thing.

His thoughts were interrupted by a commotion up in the loft and the great hulking figure of Thor came tumbling down the ladder. “Friends, awaken! Arise! There’s been a miracle!” Thor was facing away from them and he immediately ran to the window, looking out of it wildly.

Peter groaned and blinked awake, “Wha?” asked the teenager, wiping drool from his mouth. Stephen also awoke and stumbled to his feet, stretching. Tony was the most conscious and asked what had happened.

Thor turned to them and there were two bright blue eyes staring back at them, the scar that had been present the day before completely gone. Peter gasped and jumped up and to come look at the man, exclaiming in amazement. Tony shot Stephen a look, but Stephen merely winked at him, putting one long scarred finger to his lips.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party gains another ally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, so sorry for the delay, I promise to get the next one out quicker. This was one of those transitional chapters that are kinda difficult to write. And I had school start back up and I've been working on finding a second job so I've been quite busy.

“So where will you go from here?” asked Loki. 

Him and Stephen were out in the forest collecting herbs in the early morning. The others were still dozing when Stephen and Loki set out on their quest and were probably rousing as the sun crept into view. 

“I’m not sure,” said Stephen, standing up with some wild mint clutched in his hand. “Tony is being stubborn, refusing to leave me, though why he would want to attach himself to an actual witch is beyond me.”

“Yes, I wonder why he would want to do that,” mused Loki inspecting a patch of what could be wild onions. 

Stephen ignored his coy tone of voice, “And Peter is determined to stay with Tony so unless I spirit away in the night, then we shall remain a trio.”

“Why don’t you just leave?”

“Why don’t you?”

Loki sighed, throwing the onions in the basket, “Touche. I suppose I too have an idiotic compatriot.” 

“Such nuscances,” said Stephen with a smile, patting his hands on his trousers. 

“You _ like _ them though,” said Loki, “That Peter is rather...amusing and Tony, oh he is handsome, isn’t he?” 

“And why should that be a concern of mine? If Anthony Stark is handsome or not?” asked Stephen. 

Loki rolled his eyes, “Remember I was among you and your little Oxford friends for days in disguise. I saw you and your friend you know. I saw how you acted around each other, it was quite obvious what you got up to.” 

“That is a serious allegation you lobe at me,” said Stephen, getting defensive.

Loki held up his hands, “One that I could also have aimed at me.” 

Stephen’s shoulders deflated, “Ah, I see.” 

“What was your lover’s name? Martin? Klaus? He was handsome, I thought about trying to seduce him, but he was so helplessly besotted with you,” said Loki with an eye roll. 

“Karl. Karl Mordo.”

“Ah! Yes! I knew there was a M and a K involved. Did he leave you for a more _ appropriate  _ partner? Some boring lady or what have you?”

Stephen hung his head, his chest welling with sadness, “He hunts me.”

Loki looked up from his crouched position, “I beg your pardon?”

“He is one of the Witch-Hunters that pursues me.”

Stephen expected Loki to laugh, or to display some other sort of smugness, but instead he looked back down at the patch of ground he was inspecting and merely said, “Oh.”

“Are you not entertained?” asked Stephen. 

“I am not as monstrous as you would think, Strange. I can’t imagine being hunted by someone I was trained alongside with, someone I  _ shared a bed with _ . I suppose I consider myself lucky that I faced a fiend like Maw.” 

“Who did you train with?” asked Stephen, desperate to change the subject.

“My mother taught me.”

“Your mother? A grand highborn lady put you in that sort of danger?”

“My birth mother, Thor and I are not related by blood. I field our cottage as a small boy when the village came to take my mother. She had practically breathed life back into a stillborn babe and was hanged for it. I stowed away on a wagon and found myself in a town. There I begged and did small odd jobs to survive. I met Thor one day and we hit it off, we were compatible playmates and his family took me in.” 

“That’s horrific,” said Stephen. 

Loki shrugged, “It is our life. So, I ask you again, Strange, where will you go now?”

Stephen heaved out a sigh, “Oh I don’t know, somewhere remote I suppose. But Tony is a blacksmith, he needs clients to perform his trade.” 

“His trinkets are a wonder. He was showing Thor one that made fire in the palm of his hand last night.” 

“Yes, he really is extraordinary.”

“The continent maybe? France?”

Stephen shook his head, “Foreigners are instantly mistrusted.”

“You could run very far away, how about the Orient or something fantastical like that?”

“My hunters have sling rings too, you know. There is no such thing as running far enough.”

“Hmmm,” thought Loki, “You need remote, and far, but not too far, so how about Scotland?”

Now that idea could work, the highlands were seen as somewhere one might escape. It was close enough that they wouldn’t stand out horrendously, but far enough to give them some time. They could find some place and hunker down, plan in case the hunters found them. 

“Maybe,” said Stephen, “I’ll talk to Tony about it. Offer him his freedom one more time.”

Loki laughed, “Don’t bother.” 

xxx

“Scotland?” asked Tony, “I guess we could start there. Plenty of stories of people running off to Scotland. Being spirited away by the fairies and such.”

“Fairies?” asked Peter, his eyes growing wide, “Are fairies real too?”

“No, Peter,” said Stephen.

“Actually--” Loki started but clamped his mouth shut when Stephen shot him a look. 

“You could set up shop, Stark. Plenty of villages that could use a skilled blacksmith,” said Thor.

“But not  _ too _ skilled,” reminded Stephen. 

“Yes, yes. My midnight escapades are over,” said Tony. “Sorry, Peter. I guess I can’t finish your training.” 

“That’s okay,” said Peter, surprisingly not disappointed, “If Stephen teaches me some magic.”

“You traitor!” cried Tony, appalled at Peter’s change in allegiance. 

Stephen smiled, thinking he could hold off on trying to shake the two. He knew when they parted ways that the loneliness he had been lost in would come crashing down like a tidal wave. He would put off drowning as long as he could. 

xxx

“I’m gonna miss those guys,” said Peter as he walked down the forest lane, “They were nice.” 

“Yes, it was nice getting to converse with Loki as a tentative ally instead of a foe. Also what he did for his brother was pretty selfless,” said Stephen walking side by side with Tony. 

The blacksmith pat his pocket, “Oh yes, and Thor was quite generous with his gold.” The jingling of coins could be heard. 

“Well, it’s not like they need it, there’s not a market or anything out in the woods,” said Peter back over his shoulder at them. 

“So what’s the plan, Stephen?” asked Tony after a comfortable silence had taken over their walking. 

“Live? Survive? Try and make a life and then grow old and die in my own bed?” asked Stephen with a shrug.

“Sounds like a good plan. You thinking we can do this together?” asked Tony, tentatively. 

“Well Mr. Stark you seem to have become stuck to me, and I’ve...grown accustomed to you,” said Stephen. 

Peter barked out a laugh ahead of them. Tony bent down and scooped up a pinecone, hitting Peter squarely in the back with it. The blacksmith couldn’t stop and think about the warm feeling spreading through his stomach thinking about settling down with Stephen and creating a life together. It was very promising. 

They continued to walk entertaining themselves with singing tavern diddies, Peter and Tony arguing over what the lyrics were and Stephen stopping to pick berries and pass out to the group. Eventually they entered a main road that would most certainly eventually lead to a town and they started to pass other travelers here or there. 

They were cresting a hill when they suddenly stopped, because down at the bottom there was a quite a scene. A coach lay on its side and there was a group of black-cloaked men, some on horseback, surrounding someone. The center of attention seemed to be a young, red-headed woman whose dress would identify her as a noble. Some of the men in cloaks had their swords drawn at her. One man even had a worn musket. 

“Raiders! We have to help her!” cried Peter. 

“They’ll get just get their money and go,” said Tony. “By the looks of that woman’s gown and that coach, it looks like she has money to spare.” 

But then one of the raiders reached out and tried to pull the young woman to him, his other hand trying to grab at her in a crude way. She leered back and spit in his face which obviously enraged the man enough to raise his sword.

“Stop!” cried Stephen as he took off down the hill. 

“Goddammit!” yelled Tony as he ran after him, Peter hot on his heels. 

The man with the musket swung it around to aim at Stephen, but the sorcerer raised a hand and suddenly vines started to form out of the wood of the firearm. Flowers blossomed out of the gears. The raider was horrified and threw the gun away from him, crying, “Witch!”

That didn’t dismay all of the raiders though, as their swords turned towards Stephen. Stephen snapped his fingers and their weapons turned to ash. That was then that they looked at each other and decided the fight wasn’t worth it and turned tail and rain back into the forest. 

The man who had grabbed the girl though had her now fully in his grasp, a knife pressed up against her neck. “Come any closer and the bitch gets it,” he growled. Stephen came to a halt in front of the pair as Tony and Peter came running up behind him. 

Stephen was considering his options and what he should do to help the young woman. But he was distracted by the fact that the woman didn’t look scared, she looked  _ annoyed.  _ And as she rolled her eyes the knife was wretched from the fiend’s hand, a red glow surrounding it. It hovered in front of the would be thief’s face and in his shock, he didn’t have time to flee before it embedded in his eye socket. Tony grabbed Peter and pulled him against his shoulder, shielding the boy from the gory scene. 

Stephen dropped his hand, regarding the young woman in front of him. She looked to be some Lord’s daughter, not the usual mold of a magic-user at all. She wiped her red hair out of her face, and regarded her rescuers. “Thank you for the help, I don’t like using my powers, but they only saw  _ you _ doing witchcraft, and I didn’t mind killing this vile pervert,” the woman said in thick Eastern European accent before kicking the body of her attacker. 

“My Lady,” said Stephen, struggling to gather his words, “You are a witch?” 

“Not the traditional kind of course, but yes, I suppose that would be what people would call me,” said the woman as she walked over to Stephen and held out a hand, “My name is Lady Visio, but you may call me by my Christian name, Wanda.” 

Stephen shook the woman’s hand, confused that she had offered it, most ladies of high breeding expected you to bow to them. 

“And your name?” asked Wanda. 

Stephen shook himself from his stupor, “My name is Strange, Stephen Strange. You may call me Stephen. And this is Anthony Stark and Peter Parker.” 

“You can call me Tony,” said Tony as he walked up the lady and shook her hand. Tony then bumped Peter with his shoulder and the teen was shocked out of his staring, “Oh and I’m Peter!” 

“And you two are aware that your travelling partner is a witch?” asked Wanda to Tony and Peter. 

Peter nodded his head and Tony laughed, “And quite happy that he is. I’d be decaying in a shallow ditch somewhere if he wasn’t.” 

“Well then, it is good that you have allies, I know personally how difficult it can be for our kind to be alone. Where are you headed?” asked Wanda. 

“To the next big town,” replied Stephen. 

“Are you on some sort of quest?” asked Wanda.

“No, just trying to find a place to rest,” said Tony. 

“Well then!” said Wanda with a clap of her hands, “Help me find the horses, they ran off into the forest when the raiders came upon us and tipped over the coach.”

“Where are your servants?” asked Tony looking around him.

“Ran off quicker than the horses,” said Wanda with a growl. “But anyhow, we find the horses and you all accompany home, and I will see to it that my husband will give you refuge in our castle for as long as you require it.”

“Does your husband know of...your abilities?” asked Stephen.

“Of course! And he will keep you safe too.”

As they went into the forest looking for the horses, Stephen couldn’t believe his luck. A castle, with all the luxuries he had never experienced: a soft bed, plenty of food, warm fireplaces. And even greater, the safety of being under the protection of a laird. Stephen caught Tony’s eye and smiled, thinking their fortunes had turned for the better. 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen cross a line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a bit sick and preoccupied by other fandoms. But my other fic is almost done! So I should be able to update this one more regularly.

They arrived at a grand estate, walking up the pebbled walkway to the front entrance while Peter gawked at the castle in front of them. Two footman ran out to take the horses, all the while bowing to the young lady. She smiled at Peter’s impressed appearance. 

“It is impressive, no?” she asked, “My husband got it cheap.” 

“He’s not Scottish then? Your husband?” asked Stephen. 

“Oh no, he’s English, and his kin were actually from Italy, but it’s nice and quiet and remote, far from the bustle and politics of London.”

“And perfect for hiding a witch,” said Tony quietly, under his breath.

Wanda threw him a side glance, “Yes, that is correct indeed. I think you all had the same idea when you came to the highlands.”

“We had planned to rough it a bit more than this though,” said Tony. 

“Well now you don’t have to! You are my guests.” 

“Do we each get our own bedroom? Like with beds and everything?” asked Peter excitedly. 

“Of course.”

“Do the beds have posts with curtains? That’s what I always imagined rich people’s beds were like.” 

Wanda laughed, “Well I hope that my house lives up to your expectations, Master Parker.”

They were met by a servant at the door, the main housekeeper surprised to see Wanda. “Lady Visio! I thought you were spending the day in town! Back so soon! And where are the girls? Why are you coming in through the front door?” cried the woman in a frantic snappy Scottish accent.

“We were met by raiders on the road and everyone ran off. Luckily though, these fellows came along and helped me.”

The woman turned and took in the men, “Oh, do come in then! The Laird will be most grateful that you saved his wife, and my lady,” she said turning to Wanda, “I am most sorry that those ungrateful, scabby miscretins left you out there. The Laird should have the authorities pursue ‘em. I knew they were lazy and unloyal from first sight!”

“No harm done, Mrs. Donaldson. They are without jobs and places to stay, that is enough retribution. But please see to my guests, make sure they are put in our nicest guests rooms,” said Wanda, “I must go see my Lord husband, please excuse me.” With that the young woman trotted up the steps and disappeared from sight. 

Mrs. Donaldson patted her hands on her apron, “Well lads, come along, I’ll show you to the kitchen where you can sit by the fire and warm yourselves. Have a bit to eat and a hot drink. I’ll get some of my girls to prepare some rooms for ye.” 

She led the men back to a spacious kitchen, where some kitchen maids halted their work to look their new guests up and down. One girl continued to knead bread but she smiled slyly at Peter, who blushed at the attention. 

They sat by the fire, drinking cups of warm cider as the activity in the kitchen resumed. “So do we trust these people?” asked Tony. 

Stephen shrugged, “I don’t see why not, I mean she’s a magic user like me. She knows we know this and she could have easily left us there if she felt threatened by her secret being out. Or she could’ve killed us.” 

“She’s that powerful?”

“Well, she could’ve  _ tried _ .” 

“I think they seem nice, and good allies for us to have,” said Peter, who was munching on a pastry that had only been offered to him by one of the giggling kitchen maids. 

“I hope you’re right, kiddo. But first sign of trouble and we sling ring our way out of here, understood?” asked Tony. Stephen nodded and Peter did also, though very reluctantly. 

“I just want to know their story. I mean it’s strange enough that you have a magic-user married to a lord, but neither of them are even from here. I need to have a talk with the Lady, I would like to know what else she can do,” said Stephen. 

Soon after, Mrs. Donaldson came back and escorted them up to their rooms. The trio marveled at the size of the house and the many decorations adorning the walls as they followed the older woman. 

They came to Peter’s room first and the teen gasped at the sight of the large bed that was all for him. It did indeed have four posts that held up curtains that were currently held back. There was a large window over a garden in one wall. Peter nodded, “Yes, this is very nice. Yes. Thank you.” Stephen pat his shoulder with a smile. 

Next they walked down the hallway and the woman introduced Stephen and Tony to their rooms, which were side by side and linked by a door. Peter followed them in, still voicing his astonishment even though his room was not any less grand. Stephen mostly appreciated the warm fire was already crackling in the fireplace. 

After being shown their rooms, Stephen turned to Mrs. Donaldson, “And will we be dining with our hosts tonight?” 

The old woman shook her head, “Awe, no, unfortunately. The Lady is tired and her and her husband will be dining in their rooms. Tomorrow we will prepare a more suitable feast.” 

Stephen nodded, just appreciating the promise of food. They ended up going down to the kitchens and each eating a bowl of stew with some bread. Peter was excited to see there was even a dessert made from berries and cream. Stephen and Tony both passed, not used to overindulging. 

After their meal, it was late and Peter was yawning as the three walked back upstairs. Stephen and Tony wished their young charge good night, Tony saying, “Don’t go getting spoiled now!” 

“Yes, I would hate to get accustomed to eating regular meals and sleeping in an actual bed.” Tony shoved him through the door of the bedroom. 

When Tony and Stephen got to their rooms, they stood outside their respective doors, Tony shifting on his feet. “Well uh, good night, Stephen,” he said stallingly. 

“Good night, Tony. I hope you enjoy this luxurious rest,” said Stephen pushing into his own room. Tony watched him go, his eyes lingering on the door separating them. 

Rest did not come easy for Tony, though. He stripped himself down to his shirt and climbed into bed. A bed that he found much too soft for his tastes. His head sunk down in the feather pillows and he grumbled as he tossed and turned trying to find a position in which he could relax. 

His attempt at sleep was halted though when he heard a crash and Stephen exclaiming from the next room. Instantly Tony was on his feet and running into the room, regretting that all of his gadgets and weapons were in a pile in the corner of the room. He pushed through the conjoining door into Stephen’s room, ready to fight the assailant bare-fisted if he had to. 

What he found was Stephen staring wide-eyed up at him sitting in a large metal tub that had been placed in his bedroom. There was water past his hips and a bottle of oil lay seeping, broken on the floor by the tub. Stephen must have reached for it but had accidentally knocked it off the chair he had pulled close. 

“Tony!” cried Stephen, “Sorry if I woke you!” The sorcerer pulled his knees up closer to his body, wrapping his arms around them. 

Tony blinked out of his shock and diverted his eyes away from the other man. “Oh no, sorry if I intruded on your privacy. I didn’t realize you were going to take a bath.” 

“I asked Mrs. Donaldson to have someone bring up the tub and some water while we were eating. And don’t worry about interrupting me, did you think I being attacked?” 

“I’m still not sure if we can trust these people,” said Tony with a shrug. 

“Seeing you fight off a witch in just your shirt would’ve been a sight to behold,” said Stephen with a wide smile. 

“I think I could’ve held my own,” said Tony, “Uh, now, do you need anything? Or should I just go?” 

Stephen waved his hand and the oil bottle repaired itself floating up into the air to land in the palm of his hand. “If you wouldn’t mind, would you pour this on my back? I can’t really reach.” 

Tony walked around the tub, keeping his eyes trained on the floor, too afraid that his face would reveal how he felt seeing the naked man, his skin warmly lit by the glow of a few candles and the low firelight. He took the oil from Strange, and popped out the cork, and the man leaned forward to give Tony better access. But before Tony could pour the contents out onto Stephen’s back, he paused. His eyes were caught by the silvery scars that criss-crossed over the exposed skin. Most of Stephen’s injuries had healed by this time, bruises had faded into yellow smudges and cuts had scabbed over. Tony was tempted to let his finger trace over one of the lines, but he shook himself and poured out a portion of the oil onto Stephen. 

Tony asked Stephen if he needed anything else. “Are you desperate to get back to bed? I could use some company, and some help getting out of this thing,” said Stephen. 

“Ah, sleep isn’t coming easy tonight, I’m thinking of making a pallet on the floor,” said Tony. 

“I worried these beds would be too plush, I don’t remember the last time I slept on a feather mattress,” said Stephen, “Probably back at Oxford.” He said the last part in a quiet voice. 

Tony went to sit in a nearby chair and they chatted as Stephen washed himself, joking about Peter’s appeal with the servant girls and the oddities of the place around them and their situation in general. When Stephen was finished with his washing, Tony came over and helped him stand up, taking Stephen’s hand in his as the sorcerer stepped out of the tub and onto the rug. Tony’s eyes looked off the side, not trusting himself not to stare. 

Stephen wrapped a towel around himself and then walked over to a screen to get changed into his nightshirt. Tony watched him walk away from him, the scars even more apparent in the direct light. Stephen turned to walk behind the screen and for a second he caught Tony’s eyes. Tony looked away quickly, but it was too late. Stephen grimaced as he disappeared behind the screen, “Ugly, aren’t they?” 

“When did you get them?” asked Tony cautiously. 

“During my first imprisonment for witchcraft. I tried to heal them, but I was too exhausted after my escape. And using magic to heal scars is very tricky, I decided to let them be,” said Stephen as he walked back out, now wearing a nightshirt that hung off his boney shoulder. 

“I think I’m more scar than man,” said Stephen sadly walking up to Tony, holding up his scarred hands. They were shaking slightly. 

Tony shook his head, and moved his shirt to the side, exposing his bare chest. In the center there sat a large red scar. “When I started making my inventions, I had an accident. There was an explosion. And I barely survived.” 

Stephen’s pale eyes widened and he went to drop his hands, but Tony reached out and grabbed one of them by the wrist, bringing the hand up to feel the ridges of the scar tissue. Tony held Stephen’s hand there and whispered, “But I did survive and I’m stronger for it. And you survived too. And no one will hurt you again.” 

Stephen’s eyes darted up to Tony’s, “How can you be sure of that?”

_ “Because I won’t let them.” _

Stephen’s chest tightened and he was speechless, the only sound in the room coming from the crackling of the fire. He only managed to breathe out, “Tony…”. 

Tony let Stephen’s hand slip over to lay over Tony’s left pec, Stephen taking a moment to feel the steady beat of Tony’s heart. Tony wondered if Stephen could tell that it was beating faster than normal. 

Tony grew bold and he brought up his other hand to cup Stephen’s cheek. “And you’re wrong,” said Tony softly. 

Stephen let his face turn into Tony’s rough palm and mumbled, “About what?” 

“There’s nothing at all ugly about you. Not in the slightest.” 

Stephen’s eyes opened wide again and Tony dropped his hand. The room seemed to shrink and the air became hot, and time seemed to slow. Stephen’s hand of Tony’s chest froze in place Stephen said Tony’s name breathlessly again as Tony stepped forward and 

There was a knock on the door that made them jump apart. 

“Yes?” cried out Stephen in a choked voice. His cheeks were stained red and he had a hand to his chest, trying to control his breathing. 

“Stephen? Is it okay if I come in?” said the small voice of Peter Parker. 

“Yes, Peter, it’s okay,” said Stephen, breathing out a sigh of relief. Tony rolled his eyes as the teen crept into the room, clothed in a much too big for him nightshirt. Peter was taken aback to see Tony there, “Oh hello, Mr. Stark”

“Hello, Peter, couldn’t sleep?”

“No, not really. I feel really tired but I just lay there in that bed,” said Peter, scratching the back of his head. 

“After you built it up so much,” said Stephen with a smile. 

“They are insufferably soft,” said Tony. 

“I think I’m used to sleeping in a room with other people in it. I think I’m used to your snoring, Mr. Stark,” said Peter. 

Stephen giggled and Tony gave Peter a good natured glare. 

“How about this?” suggested Stephen. “This bed could fit a whole family, why don’t we pile in? Then we won’t get so lonely. I think my bed may be firmer also.”

“Sounds good to me,” said Peter, who didn’t hesitant to climb to the center of Stephen’s bed, snuggling down under the covers. Tony didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed that this separated him and Stephen. They had been so close to crossing a line that couldn’t be crossed back. There were many things that were unspoken between them, and Tony knew that those things would come to a head eventually. But tonight, they would sleep. 

Tony climbed in next to Peter and Stephen did the same on the other side of the teen. Peter’s breathing was already even, with his face buried in the pillows. Stephen leaned forward to blow out the candle beside his bed. “Good night, Tony,” he whispered into the darkness. 

“Good night, Stephen,” replied Tony back. Tony drifted off, determined to continue what had begun between the two of them when the opportunity next arose. 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio get to hear Wanda's story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bleh, I finished my other story so this is the only one I will focus on. Once again, I promise to get the next chapter out faster ha.

When Tony woke up the next morning, he found Peter sprawled out next to him in Stephen’s vacant spot. The morning light streamed into the room as Tony swung his feet to the floor and reached up his arms in a stretch. 

He didn’t have to wonder very long about where Stephen had gotten off to because the door swung open, revealing a fully clothed Stephen with a basket hooked in an elbow. He came into the room and placed the basket on the table and turned to the bed, “Oh good morning, Tony. I suppose your young charge is still sleeping?” 

“Could sleep through an earthquake, that one. It’s a miracle I ever got him up to do his work,” said Tony. 

“Well, best let him enjoy his first night in a real bed, who knows how long it will last.” 

Tony stood up and walked over to the basket on the table. Stephen prepared a kettle to hang over the fire so that they could have tea. “What is this?” asked Tony. 

“Just herbs, bits and pieces and I found in the forest around here. There’s a bountiful harvest out there.” 

Tony picked out a flower by its long stem, twirling it around in his fingers, “Ah, and what’s this? Some rare cure for the pox?” 

Stephen looked up with a smile, “No, just some flowers, I was going to put them in a vase. This room is rather dreary after all.” 

Tony brought the flower to his nose and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. He then turned to the witch, “Stephen, about last night,” began Tony, but Stephen silenced him with a finger to his lips, “Later, Tony. We will talk later, I promise.” Tony nodded, and held out the flower, which Stephen took with a sly smile, placing it over the fireplace. 

Peter woke up just in time for tea, and the trio separated to go get ready before they met in the hallway and headed down to the kitchens to get some breakfast. Mrs. Donaldson met them at the door and directed them into the dining room, where they sat along one side and waited for the Lord and Lady. 

Peter fiddled with the utensils in front of him, “I’ve never dined with nobility before. I don’t know any of the etiquette.” 

“They’ll probably think your primitive ways are  _ cute _ ,” said Tony with a smirk, taking a drink of water from a goblet. 

“Ah and I guess they’ll find yours absolutely and unbelievably, rude?” snapped back Peter. 

Tony glared at the young man but Stephen, who sat between them, laughed, “Don’t go throwing stuff over me to get to each other, you two.” 

The door was pushed open by a servant and the Lord walked in followed by Wanda. The three men rose to their feet, but Lord Visio waved them off, “No, no, my friends don’t fret over convention and manners. I honor you, you saved my wife after all.”

They sat down and the servants came in with a cart containing all the items for tea, which they placed on the table and then excused themselves. Stephen observed the couple, Lord Visio was a bit older than his wife, not unusual especially with the gentry, but he had a handsome face, with sky blue eyes and blonde hair. Stephen had insinuated that the Lord knew about his wife’s abilities, but he hadn’t confirmed it directly. He would’ve been cautious if the Lord himself hadn’t brought up the incident immediately after the servants had cleared out. 

“So you witnessed my wife’s powers in action,” he said, stirring a spoon in the teacup in front of him.

Stephen’s eyes glanced at the door, fearing eavesdropping servants, but the Lord smiled, “Oh don’t worry Mr. Strange, Mrs. Donaldson runs this house like an army, any servant caught at the doors is given a severe punishment. She’s also fiercely loyal to my family, helped raised me as a boy when my family spent time in London. She was very grateful when we relocated to her homeland.” 

“Does she know? About your wife?” asked Tony.

“Yes, my one confidant in this matter.” 

“I’m interested in how this came to be,” asked Stephen, “Most...magic users are not of the higher classes. There are some, but they normally shirke the roles that were given to them.” His thoughts turned to Mordo. 

“Ah, yes. It is an engaging story, I will allow Wanda to tell it. It is her’s, after all. But first, I suggest we let the servants deliver the food, so that we can have ultimate privacy.” 

The servants came in with trays of meats, breads, cheeses and a basket of hard boiled eggs were brought in and set on the table in front of them. Butter and jam was also placed by the food and then the servants bowed and left them. Peter watched everything with wide eyes, almost salivating at the abundance of food set out before him. 

The Lord placed an ample amount of food on his plate and encouraged their guests to take as much as they wanted. Peter said a quick thank you before sampling the food and eating it so fast one may think he thought it would run away. “Peter please don’t choke,” said Tony buttering a piece of bread. 

“Now,” said Wanda, who hadn’t touched the food, “I grew up in poor farming village in the kingdom of Hungary. Most families were large, too large, but my parents struggled to have children. Me and my twin brother, Pietro, were thought to be a blessing from god. Our childhood was happy, much happier than those of our neighbors. We worked hard, and we didn’t often go to bed hungry. But unfortunately, it didn’t last. My village got caught in the crosshairs during a local land dispute, our fields and our homes were lit ablaze. We tried to carry on and rebuild but, to no avail. The winter was harsh, and our parents died within weeks of each other of a fever. Pietro and I moved on, seeing no reason to stay. We packed all that we owned and took off on the road west, begging for wagon rides and husks of bread. We hoped we could find a place in a city along the way somewhere. One day we came across a group that said that we could travel with them, share their fire and their bread. We were close to starving, we couldn’t afford to be wary of their generosity. We soon found out the price we would pay though. They were sorcerers and they wanted to try out some spells on us.”

“What?” interrupted Stephen, “They wanted to  _ try out  _ their spells on you?”  

“Yes, my brother and I were frightened, but they swore that we would come to no harm, that this wasn’t some pact with the Devil. That we would have abilities that would make it so we would never have to suffer ever again. They were  _ very  _ compelling. So we gave in eventually. I thought it was all a farce until I was standing in the middle of a circle of runes drawn into the dirt at their campsite, alongside my brother. Their leader held up a blue stone and spoke some words in a language I didn’t understand. I’ve heard church Latin, it didn’t sound like that. Suddenly we were screaming in pain, like we were being torn apart and sewn back together. We both passed out. And when awoke well--” She lifted a delicate hand and napkin rose from the table, floating over and dabbing a bit of butter off of Peter’s cheek. 

“Did your brother have the same abilities?” asked Tony. 

Wanda shook her head, “No, he became impossibly fast. Almost transporting from one place to another. He would tease me once he become accustomed to it, grabbing my cup from my hand and placing it in the other before I could even yell at him.” Wanda smiled softly to herself, toying with a strand of her red hair between. The Lord reached over and squeezed her hand. 

“So no one taught you? Why would these witches just bestow these powers on you, it doesn’t make sense,” said Stephen. 

“We quickly found out their motives. They were criminals, who wanted to use us. At first it was merely carriages that we robbed, and I did not feel all that guilty about it. Rich people could handle losing some gold and a couple of horses. But it got more serious, and we started robbing estates. Late at night, and the families were away and it was only a skeleton crew of servants guarding the grand houses. My brother and I hated to help, but they threatened to oust us to the authorities if we didn’t aid them. I feared the pyre. And once again, the wealthy lords and ladies could stand to lose a bit of silver and jewels. But then it all went wrong when a young servant girl was awoken during one of these bulgeries and came upon us. She gasped and turned to run, and I restrained her with my powers, the energy wrapping around her throat, keeping her from screaming. My cohorts told me to break her neck. But I couldn’t. She had such fear in her eyes, and was shaking like a leaf. She wasn’t even as old as I was. So I let her go, I released her and she took off to the door, and the leader aimed an attack on her that would’ve killed her instantly, but Pietro-” 

The lady stopped, to gnaw on her lip and compose herself, her eyes brimming with tear. Her husband rubbed his hand up and down her arm, “You don’t have to continue, my love.” 

Wanda shook her head, wiping her eyes, “I must.” She took a deep breath and continued, “He got in between her and the attack. He was struck dead. The first time I ever truly cursed his ability. The group of sorcerers knew that they had to run, and so they did, leaving me with my dead brother’s body cradled in my lap. Somehow I managed to get outside, I think I used my powers to float his body behind me. And I buried him just as the sun rose. I wandered in the woods, feeling nothing, completely numb for weeks, my hair bedraggled and hanging in my face. I snapped the necks of squirrels and cooked them over a fire. When I next came to a road, I found myself outside of Vienna. I thought my life was over, that I would just go die in some gutter, but then I found him. Or really he found me.” 

“I almost ran her over on horseback,” said Lord Visio. 

“Yes,” said Wanda, “Took everything in me not so instinctively stop the horse with a raised hand. But Visio came to see if I was okay, and then he must have thought I was the most pathetic creature he ever set eyes on.” 

“On the contrary, my love! I saw a lovely young woman, just trapped under matted hair and a lot of grime.”

“Oh I’m sure,” said Wanda skeptically, “But anyway, he took me to his rooms at a local inn and allowed me to bathe and get some rest.” 

“And then she slept for an entire day, I kept checking to see if she had died!”

“The rest of the story, isn’t that interesting. We got to know each other, despite the language barrier that existed then and well, I found I had more to live for,” said Wanda smiling softly at her husband, who raised their joined hands and kissed them. 

“When did you find out about her magic?” asked Stephen to Visio. 

“Oh quite by accident, I dropped a glass and it merely floated a few inches off the ground in front of me.” 

“I had been agonising over telling him for months! He was talking about marrying me and taking me back to Rome with him! I did that on accident and he merely laughed and said, ‘Oh would you look at that.’ I could’ve fainted with relief. And here we are. We came back to England eventually and like I said, my Lord bought this estate.” 

“That’s a great love story,” said Peter, who had been entranced by the tale. 

“You are very lucky to have each other,” said Stephen. Wanda and Visio just looked warmly at each other and then asked Stephen for their story. 

The three happily detailed what they had went through and Stephen told of his past and his current predicament. “You can stay here, as long as you want,” reassured Lord Visio. 

Before they finished eating, Tony pointed out that Wanda hadn’t taken anything eat. “Oh, my stomach isn’t behaving these days, especially in the morning. I will eat something blander later.” She cupped her lower stomach and looked down with a fond look. Stephen’s eyebrows shot up, “You are in the family way then?” Wanda answered with a smile and the three erupted into congratulations. 

After breakfast, they were taken on a tour of the castle, Wanda and the Lord alternating with entertaining stories. They walked around the grounds and decided they would go hunting the next day. Visio talked to Tony about his inventions and was eager to see them in action. Finally they left the three nestled in the library, content to peruse the volumes. Stephen wandered down another hallway and found himself in a small chapel. 

He was admiring some artwork of the saints when footsteps came behind him. He turned to and looked at Tony and nodded back to the painting and whispered, “St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost things. Appropriate isn’t it?” 

“How so?”

“I was lost and you found me.” 

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes, walking closer to Stephen, his eyes alight with determination. But Stephen backed up with a smile, “Oh no, Anthony. Not in a church. It’s sacreligious.” 

Tony halted and folded his arms over his chest, “You do  _ witchcraft _ !” 

“Doesn’t mean I go around spoiling sacred spaces!” 

“What did you think I was going to do anyway?” asked Tony. But Stephen merely walked away, back towards the door, “It’s what I’ll do to you later.” 

Tony stood there, shocked and a little frustrated, “Your saint it also appropriate, Stephen.” 

Stephen turned in the doorway and looked back at him, “Really?”

“Yes, St. Stephen, the patron saint of headaches.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up y'all


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Stephen finally get to have the night all to themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *walks in shame faced* 
> 
> Hey everyone...so I owe y'all an explanation--I might have gotten back into anime and it's eaten my brain and creative juices. BUT I still love this story and want to see it finished! So I determined to do so! Though between the anime obsession and school it may take a while! We'll see if anyone is still reading ha. 
> 
> But I hope you guys enjoy this!

Stephen spent the majority of the day looking through the estate’s ample library, Wanda joining him and bringing him volumes to peruse. Peter had been interested at first, peering at the pile of tomes and asking if they were filled with forbidden witchcraft knowledge. Stephen had disappointed him when he told the boy that they just contained information on healing and medicine. “Sorry Peter, nothing otherworldly here, purely scientific I’m afraid,” said Stephen as he flipped through a book nestled in the crook of his elbow. 

Peter had then run off looking for Tony, and the blacksmith and his apprentice had ended up in the stables, looking through the equipment stored there. “This place is behind the rest of the enlightened world by a few decades,” said Tony shaking his head, “I’ll have to make some improvements.” 

“You’d do it for free?” asked Peter, leaning on a hay bale, “Never thought I’d see the day.” 

Tony scoffed, “Of course not, we are getting treated like nobility here, aren’t we? It’s payment enough and we might as well keep ourselves useful.” 

“Then you think, they’d let us stay?” asked Peter fidgeting with a piece of hay in between his thumb and his forefinger. “It would take you a long time to construct all the new tools you’ve been muttering about for the last hour.” There was a hopeful tone to Peter’s speech, and Tony couldn’t help but let it infect him too, settling in his chest like a happy weight. The thought of having a home, a warm and a safe place, hidden so far away from the rest of the world, was just too appealing. 

“Maybe, son. And if I can show that I am useful all the more reason to let us stay,” said Tony as he gathered up some bits of broken metal and put it in a pile. 

“And Stephen too?”

“Stephen is plenty useful, he can do medicine and magic can’t he? What more do they want? Anyway, I wouldn’t stay if they didn’t let him,” said Tony. Peter picked up the fierce protectiveness in the older man’s tone and shot him a smile, “You really like him don’t you?” 

Tony frowned as a blush came across his face, “Of course I do, I would’ve thrown him to the Witch Hunters miles back if I didn’t, wouldn’t I?” 

“Mmmhmmm,” said Peter, sticking the straw in between his teeth to chew on it, thoughtfully. The boy let the topic drop, which Tony was grateful for, the blacksmith not really aware of what Peter’s opinion of Tony’s true feelings for the witch may be. He was sure the boy wouldn’t outright shun him, but he couldn’t really handle seeing his young charge, a boy who was becoming more and more his son every day, look upon him with disgust in his eyes. 

Eventually the two had to return to their respective rooms when the shadows grew long and dusk started to fall, so that they could both freshen up for dinner with their hosts. Tony changed out of dusty clothes and muddy boots and put on some articles of clothing that he had found laid out across his bed. The trousers were a tad too long, damn his short stature, and the shirt was a bit too...frilly for his taste, but it would do for proper dinner attire. He pulled out a razor and worked on his stubble, reshaping his signature goatee, and his thoughts slipped to a certain male witch. 

He lamented that Stephen and him had been interrupted last night, but he felt almost giddy thinking of the night ahead. Sorry Peter, but the door was going to be locked and only another witch would have the power to get in. Though, if Wanda barged in during what Tony was thinking about doing with Stephen, he could see himself flinging himself at her in rage. No, nothing would come between them tonight. Though Tony had to stop that line of thinking when he felt the crotch of his pants starting to feel a little tight. Oh no, had to save that for later. 

Tony dabbed on some liquid from a fancy crystal bottle that had been left on the wash stand, and looked himself up and down in the mirror. The clothes clung to him in a very flattering matter, and though he had to roll the end of the trousers, they did wonders for his backside. He was hoping that Stephen would appreciate the sight. 

He wasn’t disappointed when he was walked into the dining room by a servant and his chair pulled out next to the already present witch. Stephen’s eyes tracked him hungrily as he sat down, though he did frown and blush slightly, “I suppose I should’ve gotten changed too.” 

Tony reached forward for a goblet of wine, “I was covered in cobwebs and mud from the stable, a freshening up was desperately needed.” Tony’s voice then went softer, lowering its volume despite them being the only two in the dining room at that point, “Anyway, you still look as pretty as ever.” 

Stephen leaned closer to him with a smile, “Do I? Well I guess a change of clothes would have been wasted anyway.” 

Tony gave him a sultry look, “Oh yes, Mr. Strange. I don’t think you’d have them on for very long.” Tony emphasized his statement by reaching over and grabbing Stephen’s thigh which caused the witch to gasp. 

“Anthony, I think we need to hold off on that activity until we are behind bedroom doors, I would hate for us to ruin dinner,” said Stephen, bringing his hand to lay on top of the blacksmith’s which was gently squeezing his thigh. 

Tony swirled his wine with his free hand, “Hmmm, I wish I could see you laid out on this table.” Stephen laughed, “That would be putting us in danger of us losing this sanctuary though, you have to admit it Anthony.” 

“I suppose that the Lord and Lady wouldn’t appreciate acts of sodomy taking place on their dining room table by their guests,” said Tony forlornly. But his eyes lit up as he turned his hand over to intertwine with Stephen’s fingers. “What about a kiss though? I feel like I got cheated out of one last night.” 

Stephen looked around hesitantly, making sure there was nowhere a servant could be peeking in and then turned back to Tony, “Oh all right, just one quick one.” 

But as Tony leaned in to finally feel that tantalizing Cupid’s bow against his own lips, the door opened and a servant came in leading the Lord and Lady, followed by Peter. Tony and Stephen pulled apart, their hands separating instantly. Tony looked morose as they were once again interrupted, but Stephen smiled and mouthed, “Later.” 

Dinner was comfortable and cozy, the wine flowing easily and the conversation light. Tony entertained their hosts with stories about Peter’s most outrageous accidents while Peter balked at him and tried to kick him under the table, Stephen eventually changing the subject to rescue his young friend from further embarrassment. Lord Visio launched into tales about his journeys, which kept them rapt until his wife started to yawn. “I boring you, my dear?” asked the Lord with a smile. 

Wanda shrugged, “It is late, darling, in my defense. Though I have heard about you being chased from a Venetian monastery in the middle of the night several times. It has lost its luster. And I still doubt the truth of the matter. Anyhow, I’m to bed, will you gentlemen be following, or do you plan to let my husband prattle on?”  

“Oh yes, I do believe I will retire,” said Stephen and Tony was quick to agree, his heart speeding up. The company broke up headed to their respective rooms. Tony took note that Peter looked sufficiently tired not to interrupt them for at least the next few hours, but he stood in his room for a moment, listening for any sounds from the room next to his, before he quickly crept into the hallway and slowly entered into Stephen’s room. 

He carefully closed the door before him and then turned to take in the scene in front of him. And what a scene it was. There was Stephen reclining on the bed facing him, his boots and outer coat thrown off, his shirt loosened, showing a bit of bare chest. “I thought I was going to have to come and fetch you,” said the witch flirtatiously. 

Tony made to move towards him but suddenly found himself pushed against the door by an unseen force, as a key floated from the table close to the fireplace into the lock by his hip, the door locking with a click. Stephen stood up and surveyed him, “Finally, I have you where I want you, now, what should I taste first?” 

“The mouth is a good place to start,” suggested Tony, a bit perturbed that he was held in place so firmly. Stephen sauntered up to him, looking him up and down, “I don’t know, your neck is also very tempting, especially the way you’ve got it hidden.” Tony had worn a cravat to dinner and Stephen reached forward to tug it free, letting the silk slide over his neck. Stephen looked at the exposed skin, bringing up a finger to caress Tony’s Adam’s apple, and Tony hitched at the contact. Stephen then leant forward to leave soft, barely there kisses along Tony’s neck. 

Tony was straining against whatever spell Stephen had him under, shaking as Stephen trailed his lips up and down, his hands against the door caging him in. Tony desperately wanted to wrap his arms around him and bring their bodies flush together. He was vibrating with the need. “Eh Stephen? You going to take your time?” he choked out as Stephen nibbled on his ear lobe. 

“Why not? The night is long,” said Stephen as he let his hand barely caress down the bulge in Tony’s trousers. Tony let out a small growl at the sensation, fighting the useless urge to strain against the magic. “Stephen,” breathed out Tony, his frustration evident in his voice. 

“Hmmm?” hummed Stephen as he left bruises close to Tony’s shoulder. 

Tony let out a whine and managed to say, “Stephen, it’s been a while. A long while, since I had release, I think you need to let me go. Or I’m going to make a mess of my pants.” 

Stephen pulled back, grey eyes locking with brown, “So you haven’t touched yourself thinking about me? Must say I’m a little disappointed.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “When would that have happened? I haven’t had any alone time, only when I can go piss. And I know Peter would come looking for me if I took too long. And I don’t want to traumatize the kid. What about you?” 

Stephen’s eyes were lidded as he whispered, “I might have taken advantage of the early morning and solitude while I was fetching herbs earlier.” Tony’s eyes were blown wide as he imagined Stephen leaning against a tree, his hand covering his mouth as he whimpered Tony’s name. Oh yeah, he needed to be free. Now. 

“Stephen,” he growled, fighting fully against the spell, his head turning side to side as he grit his teeth. Stephen pulled away, backing up from Tony as he looked on with concern. Then suddenly, Tony’s limbs jolted forward from the door and he stumbled, shocked that he was free. He then wasted no time running forward and grabbing Stephen who let out a little squeak as he landed on the plush bed, Tony straddling on top of him. “You fucking witch,” breathed Tony as he stared down at him, “You let me go on purpose.” 

Stephen managed a shrug and smiled, “Well you aren’t the only one getting impatient.” Then his mouth was occupied as Tony leaned forward and kissed him, his rough blacksmith hands cradling Stephen’s head. Stephen groaned, as he tried to get his breathing under control and he let himself melt into the bed, enveloped in the warmth all around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so warm, not even with Mordo. 

Stephen felt Tony pull back and then stare down at him, and the sorcerer opened his eyes slowly to take in the sight of his would be lover. The light from the fire that a servant had lit shortly before they returned to the room was giving Tony’s tan skin a lovely glow. The shadows played across his face as the shorter man shook his head, “God you are so pretty. I never thought I would ever have such a pretty man under me.” 

“Have you ever had a man under you?” asked Stephen curious about Tony’s past. Tony sighed, “No, just late night romps into the woods with other drunk young men and the like. But none of them were as radiant as you.” 

“I should hope that I am better looking than some drunk, pockmarked village youths,” said Stephen and Tony leaned down to more gently kiss Stephen this time, their groins rubbing up against each other, making the men gasp. 

Tony looked Stephen into the eyes, swallowing, “Stephen…were you and Mordo…”. Before Tony could finish his question though, Stephen flipped their position, his face looming over Tony’s and his hand on the blacksmith cheek, “I don’t want to think about him tonight. Just you.” Tony nodded as they kissed once more. 

While he was pinned against the door, Tony thought him and Stephen would end up on the bed rutting like animals, but actually they were happy to kiss and rub against each other, just enjoying being close. But their clothes came off eventually when Stephen sat up and pulled off his shirt and unlaced his trousers, wiggling out of them and then sitting on his bent knees before Tony completely naked. He blushed under the intense stare Tony was giving him, fidgeting and saying, “I know I’m rather skinny and bruised. Sorry about that.” 

But Tony shook his head and clambered out from under Stephen, grabbing and tugging off his own clothes, “Don’t you apologize, don’t you dare. Not when I should be on my knees thanking you for the night. Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Tony flung his own trousers onto the floor, his own erection freed, as he knelt before Stephen who came to sit with his legs dangling off the bed. Tony crawled forward and hugged Stephen around the middle, dragging him closer and then kissing him in the middle of his concave stomach, Stephen letting out a soft giggle. Tony’s kisses moved down before he was met Stephen’s hard length laying on his stomach. He gave the organ a kiss before licking down it and taking it into his mouth. 

Stephen let his hand lay on the back of Tony’s head as he sucked him down, and said with a gasp, “Oh Anthony.” Tony’s hand came up to grip Stephen’s pale thighs while Stephen’s heels pressed into Tony’s back. Tony was quite talented with his tongue and Stephen let himself melt back into the bed as said tongue undid him. Stephen felt his climax coming close and so he sat back up and gently pushed Tony off of him, “I think I’d rather come with you inside me.” 

Tony cocked an eyebrow at him, to which Stephen replied, “I’m not one of your pub flings Anthony. No getting sucked off to completion, make love to me properly.” Tony was on his feet in an instant, on top of Stephen kissing him saying, “Can do.” 

Stephen managed to reach other to the side table bringing over a small bottle of some type of oil. “I found it in the medical supply cabinet, it’ll do the job,” said Stephen, smiling as Tony made quick work of pouring the oil onto his fingers and stroking Stephen’s entrance. Stephen bit his lip, “I considered preparing myself before hand, but I thought you might like to do the honors.” 

Tony let the tip of a finger enter into Stephen, “You would be correct, my dear.” Their talking ceased as Tony concentrated to make sure Stephen was fully ready for him, the last thing he wanted was to hurt the man underneath him. After three fingers, Stephen grabbed Tony’s wrist, “I’m ready Tony, go ahead.” 

“Go ahead and do what?” Tony teased. Stephen just looked at him straight-faced and growled, “Fuck me you dirty blacksmith.” Tony didn’t need any more encouragement as he got between Stephen’s legs, bringing one up to his shoulder and lined up with Stephen’s hole, pushing in slowly. Stephen ground out a moan as Tony filled him completely, at which time Tony decided to access Stephen’s well being, “You okay, I’m not hurting you?” 

“Tony I know pain,” said Stephen with a breathy voice, his head thrown back, “This isn’t pain.” His pale eyes slid open, “Please move.” 

Tony pushed into him, picking up a pleasing rhythm. His eyes never wanting to stop taking in the man under him. In the dim firelight, Stephen’s yellowing bruises weren’t even visible, but Tony could take in his visible ribs. With a few more good meals here in this castle, those would be gone and Tony looked forward to being rougher with his lover. 

They weren’t any hurry, and Stephen reached up a hand to cup Tony’s cheek and bring him down for a sweet slow kiss. “You can go a little faster, Anthony,” whispered Stephen against his lips, “You won’t break me, trust me, others have tried.” 

“Like this?” asked a breathless Tony as he intertwined his fingers with Stephens and pressed their hands into the bed next to Stephen’s head. “No, not like this,” said Stephen, his eyes closing in pure ecstasy.

Tony started to pound into him at a faster pace, the antique bed making a rhythmic creaking sound. They could’ve been concerned that someone could hear them, and it would take a true fool not to deduce what was happening, but they weren’t. They were much too lost in each other to care. 

Tony connected with a certain bundle of nerves inside Stephen and the sorcerer gasped, his body arching under him, biting his lip to suppress a moan as he came onto his stomach. Tony grunted as he followed and released into the man below him. 

The two men breathed heavily as they composed themselves, Tony finally pulling himself out of Stephen and dropping onto the bed next to him. The bed creaked loudly at his action and Stephen lazily swatted his arm, “Go easy on the furniture, Tony. I don’t want to explain how we broke the bed.” 

Tony nuzzled into the side of Stephen’s face, laying kisses on his jaw, “You could say you were levitating it around, testing a new spell.” Stephen chuckled and tried to squirm away from his lover, “I’ll levitate you out the window if you’re not careful.” 

Stephen’s escape was not to be because Tony reached forward to grab him around the waist, kissing and biting at his neck. “Wanted to mark this neck for so long,” said Tony between kisses. Stephen continued to push back against him, “I’m gross Tony, let me up!” But Tony shook his head when it was stuck in the crook of Stephen’s neck, “I’ll take you gross, just want hold you for a little longer.”

Stephen’s body went limp, and he laid a kiss on the top of his lover’s hair, “Okay, Tony. Just for a little while, I can’t fall asleep like this. Though, I think you may be wrong about the saints. I think you might be the one connected with the patron saint of headaches.” 

Tony raised his eyes back to Stephen’s and smiled, leaning forward to kiss him, “I’m glad I found you though. I’m glad we found each other. Despite everything.”

“Me too,” said Stephen as he pulled Tony closer, laying his head on top of the blacksmith’s, “Me too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at stephenstrangeisaho  
> Leave comments to feed my validation I love them so.


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